The Disaster Zone
by LMSharp
Summary: Beth Shepard fought tooth and nail to make her own destiny, off the streets of East Side Vancouver. The one time she opened up and let someone in, it ended in horrific tragedy. But Beth can't hope to survive the war against the Reapers on her own. A collection of one-shots spanning the Mass Effect backstory and trilogy. Some ShepardxOC. Later ShepardxGarrus.
1. Nobody's Child: Foster Trash

**A/N: If y****ou're new, welcome! If you've been reading, welcome back! I'm excited about this story. It's one of the more original fics I've written on the site. I could always use feedback, so if you like what you see, or if you have suggestions for improvement, leave a review! I always read my reviews, and I usually respond within a week or so, offering my personal thanks and answers to any questions you may have. If you just want to enjoy the story, that's good, too.**

**The story focuses more on character development than any overarching plot, but there are plot arcs and time periods within it. If you're uninterested in reading about my Shepard's childhood, skip ahead! She grows up. A quick table of contents for reference. The chapters labeled "Nobody's Child" are about Beth Shepard's life from about three, in this first chapter, to eleven. Those labeled "Little Beth" are about Beth's life in the Tenth Street Reds, and follow her from twelve to eighteen. "Soldier" picks up after about four years in the Alliance, with Beth a new Operations Chief in a new unit, and follows her through Akuze and its aftermath, and five years under Anderson in Alliance Special Forces before the events of ME1. The chapters labeled "Awakening" are set during ME1. ****The chapters labeled "Resurrection" are set during ME2. That arc is incomplete. The story will eventually follow Beth Shepard all the way through ME3 and a little beyond, because we all want to know what happens next. **

**My stories are usually somewhat lighter than this, too, so I've added chapter warnings beneath my disclaimers detailing possible content concerns in each. **

**Markers for my Shepard are as follows: Female Earthborn (obviously), later Sole Survivor and Infiltrator. Alignment is mostly Paragon, too Paragon to be considered properly Paragade, but not a perfect Paragon, either. You might call Beth a Paragon with an edge. As far as pairings go, there is an OC pairing in "Soldier," ShepardxKaidan mutual attraction without an actual romance in "Awakening," and a ShepardxGarrus romance in the works in "Resurrection." **

**I hope you enjoy!**

**LMSharp**

* * *

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Violence and Alcohol Use**

* * *

Nobody's Child: Foster Trash

There was a boy across the street, and Beth wanted to play. But when she crossed the street and asked, he pushed her down, and she tore her jeans and scraped her knee in the gravel. It hurt, but she was too surprised and angry to think of crying. She punched him, and his nose bled. He did cry, and he ran inside, yelling "Mommy."

Sammy back home talked about her Mommy, sometimes. She said she'd see her again, someday. Sometimes, too, when Mr. Hollis wasn't drinking beer on the brown couch, Sammy had shown her channels on TV that played stories about mommies. Mommies were people that looked like you, people that belonged to you. Mrs. Hollis wasn't Beth's Mommy. Beth didn't think she had a Mommy. She couldn't remember one, anyway. Before Mrs. Hollis there'd been another lady, but Beth was sure she hadn't been Mommy, either.

Beth was just kneeling down to see the blood and dirt on her knee, curious, when the boy across the street came out again, with a woman that looked like him. She yelled at Beth with the ugly words Mrs. Hollis sometimes yelled at Mr. Hollis, when the beer made him smelly and he fell asleep on the brown couch and forgot to go to work.

"Can't the Hollises control their foster trash? You just stay away from Ethan, you hear? If I see you on our property again, I'll report them. You tell them: I'll report you as violent and neglected, and that will be the last they ever see of their state money. See how long they last after that. And you? It'll be another home for you, you little hellion."

The kid, tucked under his Mommy's arm, was smiling. Beth made a face at him, and left the yard. She'd only wanted to play ball with him. His ball was red, Beth's favorite color. He didn't have to be a…a stupid horse? Isn't that what Mrs. Hollis called Mr. Hollis?

She'd never been called foster trash before. Beth didn't think she was trash.


	2. Nobody's Child: Blank File

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

Nobody's Child: Blank File

The rhinestones on the new social worker's green glasses had been glued on crooked, her nail polish was cracked, and she was wearing too much perfume. Her smile reminded Beth of pictures she'd seen of a horse. She looked Beth up and down and laughed a loud, nervous laugh. Then she looked back down at the datapad on her chipped, fake wood desk and her drawn-on eyebrows crinkled. "Beth Shepard?"

Beth didn't answer.

"What a pretty name," Ms. Brown tried again. "We're going to try to get you adopted. How would you like that? A nice family of your very own. But you're going to have to answer a few questions for me, Beth. Can you do that?"

Beth nodded.

"Your file's…well, it's rather thin, dearie. Born April 11, 2154?"

"That's my birthday."

"You're six?"

Beth didn't answer.

Ms. Brown cleared her throat and tapped her nails on her desk. "Your birth certificate says you were born at the South Sixteenth Charity Clinic, but there's…there's no record of a mother. Or a father. Do you know anything? Have any of the people you've lived with told you anything? The Hills or the Hollises? Mrs. Tyre?"

"They just want me for the money from the state. They don't know anything. Even if they did they wouldn't tell me, probably."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true."

Beth stared at Ms. Brown's shiny glasses. Behind the glass, the watery blue eyes were looking everywhere but at Beth.

"Have you ever had any communication? A letter or an email? A message of any kind?"

"No."

Ms. Brown spread her hands over the desk. Tap, tap, tap, went the nails again. She chewed her purple lip. "I…I…"

"You're new at this, aren't you?" Beth asked. "Not just new here. They didn't tell you what to do with a kid like me."

"Yes, this is my first day on the job, but I assure you, I will take the best care of you I can, dearie. I'm sure we'll fill out your paperwork somehow and find you a family."

"Tommy at school says no one would want me, anyway. He's probably right. Mrs. Hollis sent me away, anyway. And so is Mrs. Tyre, right? That's why I'm here. You're moving me again."

"It's not that they didn't want you, dearie," Ms. Brown said quickly. "Mrs. Hollis' license got revoked, and now that Mrs. Tyre will be having her own child, she's expressed concerns about her ability to care for the rest of you. It's got nothing to do with you, Beth. Don't worry a bit. We'll find you a new place to stay for now, and I am on your case! Before you know it, maybe just in a few months, you'll go someplace else, someplace permanent."

Beth was not filled with confidence. "Did you have more questions, Ms. Brown?" she asked.

Ms. Brown blinked behind her green glasses, and her purple lips opened in surprise. "Well, I…no. That's all for now, Beth. You can wait outside in the playroom. I'll come get you and your things when we're ready to take you to your new caretakers."

Beth slid off her plastic chair and slipped out into the playroom without a word. Later, when she was building holo-mazes for the holo-ships to fight through on the sim-interface (nicer than any she'd played on before, she'd be sad when she had to stop), playing Shanxi, she heard Ms. Brown talking on her comm.

"I don't know what to do, ma'am. I've never seen this many blanks in a file before. This case—not only are there no parents, there aren't even any of the other usual relatives. No aunt or uncle, no grandparent. No communications, no official records, neither the child nor her previous guardians have made any report of so much as an informal word-of-mouth message by proxy. I can't even trace the name to get parentage—it was given her by the nurse. Just invented off the top of her head. And you know what that means. No parents means no health history, no genetic mapping…

"No. I don't even have her ethnicity to make a ballpark guess at what might be going on inside. I can't get a DNA test without sufficient cause or a relative's signature, and there are no relatives," she continued. "The kid seems healthy enough. Nothing to worry about in the medical records. She broke her wrist last year. Fist fight. She has a history of violence, but all of them do down here, in one way or another."

Beth had thought Ms. Brown was talking about her. Now she was sure. She'd broken her wrist last year. She listened more closely, making sure to keep the turians and the humans fighting on the sim-interface, in case the secretary was watching.

"Why don't I have ethnicity? Ma'am, it could be anything. She looks like she might be part aboriginal. Dark, you know. But it could be Latin, or Black, or Greek. Except her eyes are gray and her hair is _yellow_, I swear. Yeah. Witchy looking little thing. And skinny as a wraith. All elbows and knees. But she could be pretty, maybe. In the right clothes."

Ms. Brown listened a moment, then said, "The real problem is she's got her eyes open, and she's already been in the system too long, ma'am. She's...I mean, they told us the children develop trust issues in training, but I never thought…she's hard. Six years old, and hard. I promised her I'd find her a family. Well what could I say? But with her file, all those holes in her information? Especially the lack of genetic information…no idea what diseases she could develop, or what modifications she might have had. Probably none: the mother gave birth in a charity clinic, probably standard homeless junkie. But no boosters is just as bad as any illegal tailoring, ma'am. I don't know. I just don't know."


	3. Nobody's Child: Left Behind

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Language, Mentions of underage tobacco use and animal abuse, Child Confinement.**

* * *

Nobody's Child: Left Behind

The closet was dark and close and smelled weird. There was a skittering noise by Beth's left hand. Maybe a spider. Probably a roach. Beth hoped Ms. Ibanez let her out soon. Not that she wanted to see anyone ever again, but she was getting hungry. It was too late for dinner, but she could probably sneak a snack before bed. Beth scrubbed at her face as the shelves dug into her back, but she'd stopped crying a while back. Her backside had long since stopped hurting, she probably hadn't been in here for more than an hour, and she deserved all that anyway. What stung worse was no one would ever adopt her now. Ever. And Carrie-Ann was gone.

Ms. Brown had shown up for Carrie-Ann yesterday. Given Beth a little wave, like she was sorry, guilty, then taken Carrie-Ann away to her new home, her new family.

And she wasn't, she really wasn't that different from Beth. Carrie-Ann didn't have family or relatives, either. Well, none that would come for her, anyway. No dad, her grandparents were dead, her mom was an only child, and her mom was in jail and had signed her over to the state last year. But Ms. Brown had found a family for Carrie-Ann, and Beth was still here. Like the other kid at Ms. Ibanez', Jimmy. Jimmy never washed. He cussed all the time for no reason, smoked in the backyard, and Beth and Carrie-Ann had seen him kick Ms. Ibanez' dog, Teddy. Jimmy was fourteen. He hadn't been adopted, either. Beth had thought yesterday that if she didn't do something, she'd end up like Jimmy. She snorted. She definitely would now.

She'd guessed, when Ms. Brown had come for Carrie-Ann, not her, that Ms. Brown's boss hadn't been able to help her fill in the blanks in the file, the ones that would keep the families from adopting Beth. Beth knew she couldn't change that, but she'd thought that maybe she could do something about the rest of it.

Beth made a face at the darkness and tugged her hair. Even six washings hadn't changed what she'd done. That's why she was in here. Ms. Ibanez was mad she'd have to take her to a salon tomorrow. She said she couldn't afford it, and it was ridiculous taking a six year old, anyway. Beth had pointed out Ms. Ibanez could just cut it all off with scissors, but Ms. Ibanez at least wouldn't let her show up to school next week bald. She wasn't a monster.

Carrie-Ann was pretty, with shiny brown hair and freckles, and dimples in her cheeks. Beth had thought, yesterday, that maybe she couldn't do anything about the blanks in her file, but maybe she could be pretty, too, so that the next time Ms. Brown showed a family her picture, they might look at it, and forget the file, and say yes, they wanted her.

Ms. Brown hadn't been wrong, all those months ago when they'd met the first time and Beth had heard her talking to her boss. She _was_ freaky looking. Sharp elbows and knees, way too skinny for the clothes Ms. Ibanez picked up from the second-hand store. Too skinny, anyway. She was like a skeleton person, and her nose and chin were all pointy. But that was fine. The bad part, Beth had decided, was the hair. She did look Greek, or like she was fresh off the rez, or like maybe her mom or dad had been black, even, or Latina like Ms. Ibanez. Or she would, but her stupid hair was long, and yellow, and just _weird_. And Beth had thought, if only it were dark, then maybe she'd be pretty. Prettier, anyway.

So she'd taken money from Ms. Ibanez sock drawer and gone to the corner store and bought a box of hair dye. It was supposed to turn her hair chocolate brown, but she'd done it wrong, and it'd come out like some sort of perverted bronzy-green and blonde zebra in the end, with dark places on her neck, cheeks, and forehead where she'd missed with the bottle and dyed her skin by mistake. Jimmy had laughed so hard.

Ms. Ibanez hadn't, but she'd pursed her lips and marched Beth right back into the bathroom once she'd made her open up, and right back into the shower. Except Beth had stayed on the floor too long, horrified by what she'd done, before Jimmy had started banging on the door and yelling that he had to shit, and Ms. Ibanez had come to see about the fuss. They dye had set, Ms. Ibanez said, after she'd tried for an hour to make it unset, and it couldn't be washed out. She'd punished Beth then, but promised they'd fix it, anyway. Beth didn't believe it could be fixed.

Even if it did, though, even if they did something at the salon to make her hair go back to normal, it'd be just like it was before, and she'd be just as freaky-looking as before. Or just plain ugly. And it'd go in her blank file that she'd been bad today, and Ms. Brown would probably take her away from Ms. Ibanez to someone that maybe wouldn't even try to be nice in this shitty neighborhood where everything was so hard. And Carrie-Ann was gone, with her laugh and her jokes and the candy she'd lift from the teacher's desk at school, and Beth would never, ever find a family.

Beth kicked the shelving opposite, and her insect friends skittered around her dye-spotted hands. She bit her tongue to keep from crying again as her stomach growled, and she waited for Ms. Ibanez to come tell her it was okay to come out.


	4. Nobody's Child: School

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Sexual references, Language, and Violence. Bullying.**

* * *

Nobody's Child: School

"Why didn't he kick them right back into wherever they're from? If I'd been the General, I'd have blown all of them up," Lane said. Beth rolled her eyes.

"It was tragic that General Williams proved unable to hold Shanxi, but remember that the Second Fleet took it back a month later," Ms. Thibodeaux said. Beth tapped on her desk, fuming, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't stay quiet.

"Of course they did," she said. "The turians were outnumbered and running out of supplies. They couldn't hold Shanxi for long. They only took it in the first place because they had the better position and Shanxi was a civilian colony. What I don't get is why Williams gets so much crap for retreating. It was the smart thing to do, until reinforcements arrived. If he hadn't, a lot more people would've died. We didn't know what we were dealing with."

Lane rolled his eyes, and Quan and Vance muttered something under their breath. Beside them, Katie and Alice giggled. The teacher turned slightly red, and plastered on one of her fake, plastic smiles. Well, Beth thought, she should have done the reading she'd assigned. Or at least watched one of the hundreds, thousands of news specials that had been on in the last five years since humans had discovered they weren't alone in the universe after all.

"Beth," Ms. Thibodeaux said, "Thank you for sharing. It's always nice to hear from you. Are you interested in military history?"

Beth crossed her arms and sat back, and didn't answer. She'd done enough. She could feel Lane still glaring at her across the room. He was exactly as stupid as he felt, but she'd promised herself she'd stop making him feel it. It never ended well for her.

"Does anyone else have any questions? Comments?" Ms. Thibodeaux asked, after she realized Beth wasn't going to say anything else and her plastic smile stretched just a little thinner, so Beth thought Wendy and Erik up front might actually hear it stretching, like a latex glove in the science lab.

"What are the aliens like?" Una asked shyly. "I mean, why did the turians attack us in the first place? What do they do, out there? And what about the others? There are others, right?"

Beth liked Una. She was one of the only kids in this place that used her brain to think instead of fart. Ms. Thibodeaux nodded, "Yes, Una. The war with the turians was resolved when the Council that rules intergalactic policy stepped in to stop it. The turians had attacked humans because it is against intergalactic law to activate unknown mass relays, like the one near Shanxi. But the Council realized that humans, having never had previous contact with another species of life, didn't know this. There are two other species on the Council, other than the turians. Asari, and salarians."

"Asari are the hot blue chicks, right? My dad knows all about them," Quan volunteered. "There's this magazine, right? And—"

Ms. Thibodeaux quickly interrupted. "Well, I think that's enough social studies for now. Take out your maths homework, if you please, and we'll go over the answers together."

Beth snorted. Jimmy had some of those asari magazines at the home. It wouldn't be anything Ms. Thibodeaux would want to talk about in her politically correct third grade classroom, though it wasn't like all the kids in here didn't already know that people had sex. Well, Jennifer might not, with her pink hair ribbons and her precious Daddy and Mommy that came to every stupid event they held at this stupid place. But Jessie would probably tell her soon enough for the shock value.

She pulled out her maths homework. She'd only done the first problem in each section. It wasn't like Ms. Thibodeaux actually graded the worksheets, because if she did, almost the entire class would fail, and that would make her and Principal James look bad. And anyway, it was all the same.

Everything was the same. Just a big pile of bullshit with a know-nothing bimbo that hadn't known what the hell else to do with her life posing in front of the room acting like she was the universe's mommy. Every few months or so they had an assembly and claimed they were in this to help people, with sexual abuse, with bullying, with poverty or ignorance or whatever. But they didn't care, really. They just wanted to feel and act like they did.

She knew, because Ms. Thibodeaux walked past the playground on her way to her skycar every afternoon, and whenever she heard yelling, or maybe even saw Lane and his goons coming after Beth because once again she'd failed to keep her stupid mouth shut, Ms. Thibodeaux always pretended she didn't know and kept walking, because the day was over, and she was off the clock.

"So not only are you a smartass, Shepard, you're a damn alien lover, too?" he asked that afternoon, cracking his knuckles as Quan and Vance and Shane and Lila grinned from behind him. Shane and Lila were new. Either she'd put up more of a fight than they'd wanted last time, or she was pissing more people off these days.

"Love aliens better than you, anyway," Beth said. "You seen the vids of the turians? They're a little better looking than you, Roberts."

"Real funny, Shepard," Lila said, sneering. She was one of the worst ones in the lunchroom, but she'd never gotten violent before. "We'll see how much you're laughing in a minute."

Beth backed up against the wall. Cut off her chances of running, but at least they wouldn't be able to completely surround her. Vance was faster than her, anyway. "Hey, I can do this every day," she said. "In fact, seems like I do. And you always seem to need more guys to take me down. Wonder why that is." She clenched her fists, preparing.

Lane laughed his angry laugh. "God, you're such a bitch, Shepard," he said, and punched.

Beth ducked his blow to her face, but couldn't dodge Shane's to her side. It knocked the air out of her, and she gasped and dodged as Vance tried to come in to grab her. "Screw you," she said from between grit teeth, and kicked out at Lila. "Idiots and cowards, too."


	5. Nobody's Child: Dreams

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: References to sex and bullying, Language, Drug Use.**

* * *

Nobody's Child: Dreams

When Beth finally picked herself up off the asphalt, wincing, the sun had already started going down, painting the edges of the dilapidated, dirty skyscrapers orange-red. Beth grimaced, feeling the throb in her torso, arms, everywhere. Her lip stung and the vision in her right eye was obscured, but at least she wasn't still bleeding anywhere. Grimly, she brushed the dirt from her clothes as best she could. They were three sizes too big and falling apart. And black. Beth _hated_ black. But she didn't have so many outfits she could be careless of any. She set her teeth, and began limping down the street.

The bus was long gone, and so were the last of the kids from school, the ones whose parents had run late for whatever reason or other. Beth didn't have a com, or anyone that'd come, even if she could call for a ride, so she trekked the fifteen blocks from the primary school to the Millers alone. She skirted the smokers on the corners, kept to the shadows, out of sight of the pimps and their strung out whores with dirty fingernails and clown makeup, and desperate, haunted eyes. One of 'em couldn't be older than twelve. Beth swallowed, passing her, wondering if the girl had been up in the intermediate across the school from the primary, a few weeks or months ago. Three blocks from the Millers' Beth heard a shot down on Tenth, and she hurried a little faster along, swearing in her head as each step sent a twinge through her bruised shin and swollen knee, because she couldn't risk swearing aloud.

Dwight and Karen were fighting in the yard. Apparently Karen had dumped Dwight for Tish down the street. They were screaming and cussing in the dirt yard. "Shut the hell up, Dwight, no one cares," Beth snapped. "Reynolds, if it's over, get out and go find your new girlfriend."

"Who the fuck asked you, you little snot? Where the hell you been, anyway?" Dwight snarled.

"None of your damn business!" Beth shot back. She opened the chipping, discolored front door and stomped inside. Behind her, Dwight and Karen went right back to screaming and cussing. Well, at least it was better than the two of them having sex down the hall every day, Beth reflected. The walls here were too thin.

Mr. Miller was in the living room on the couch, beer in hand and three empty bottles already on the coffee table. His sparse hair was greasy, his eyes were bloodshot and pink-rimmed. He grunted at Beth and continued to watch the game on the TV. From the bedroom, Mrs. Miller was sobbing again about something or other. This was the worst shithole Ms. Brown had dumped her in yet, Beth thought.

Coop was playing as quietly as possible with Annie in the corner, because if they got too loud it'd mean at least no dinner, and maybe a belting, even though Annie was only three, a freaking baby. She'd learn, though. Or maybe get adopted. She was cute. Beth nodded at Coop. He smiled shyly at her. God, he was such a sissy. She wondered how the hell the bullies never picked on him at school. Probably 'cause he was so boring he was invisible. Beth tipped Coop a wave and stalked down the hall to the room she shared with Lindsay.

She could circle the smoke in the streets, but here the sickly sweet smell permeated the place. Beth shut the door, though, and swung up on to her bed. She lay on the lumpy mattress and glared at the cracked ceiling. Rolling another joint between her fingers, Lindsay watched her with sleepy eyes from her position propped up against the headboard of her own bed.

"Missed the bus again? That's a beaut of a shiner, there. What'd you do this time?"

"Sanchez and his flunkies were laying into Liz, just 'cause her dad's trading with aliens at the warehouse. Freaking xenophobic morons," Beth muttered.

"Xeno-what now?" Lindsay slurred.

Beth half sat up and fell back down, futilely trying to find a comfortable spot. "If they'd just done the stupid reading. Or watched a vid. Aliens—there are whole _worlds_ out there, and if we don't work together, all of us are going to be…stuck. Forever. You know? I told them. They didn't appreciate it."

"You and aliens. Ever since you came here. Not everyone does appreciate you shoving your crazy brains in their faces," Lindsay said, not unkindly. "Why can't you just keep your mouth shut, huh?"

"Because Sanchez was _wrong_, and he was picking on Liz for no good reason."

"You don't even like Liz."

"So?"

"Isn't Sanchez three years older than you?"

Beth shrugged.

"And how many guys did he have with him?"

"Five." Beth spat out the number, defiant.

"Five." Lindsay blew out more smoke and hit her head against the headboard, closing her eyes lazily. "Jesus, Shepard. You just got badass enough that that other crew stopped messing with you, and now you're out to make even more friends. You really know how to pick your fights. You _trying_ to get killed?"

"No," Beth said. "It's not my fault they're all idiots. Or just…horrible."

"You think you're so smart. Or some kind of hero. But you just piss people off, kid. Here. You want a hit?" She reached over to offer Beth the joint.

"You know I hate that stuff. I wish you wouldn't smoke it in here."

"You need to learn to chill, kid. Only way you can make it, round here."

"I've been making it a lot longer than you have," Beth said. "So thanks, but no thanks."

"That's right, you're a vet, aren't you? Old hat in the system. How long have you been in, anyway? How many homes?"

"Six. I don't even have another story, Olson." Beth kept her face straight, didn't let her roommate see how badly it still hurt, that there wasn't anyone, hadn't ever been anyone, that no one had ever claimed her.

Lindsay didn't say anything for a long time. Either she was getting properly stoned now, or she knew there wasn't anything to say. She wasn't a bad sort. "It sucks here," she said finally, in a voice so full it shook. "I'm getting out, Shepard."

Beth sat up, crossed her legs. "You got an out? How?"

"I know a guy," Lindsay said. "Says he knows a guy that has a job across town. I can get my own place, make some money."

"What kind of job?" Beth asked.

"Sales," Lindsay said. "Vert says Grayson got a new store. New fashions. He needs people to sell them. All I have to do is lie to the fat ladies and tell them they look great in the stuff when they don't, and check 'em out, and I get a huge discount."

"When you leaving?"

"Next week." Lindsay ground out her joint in the tray she kept under her bed, and looked up at Beth. "I'll be glad to see the back of this place, but I'll be a little sorry to see the back of you, Shepard. You aren't a bad kid. Always interesting, anyway."

Beth looked Lindsay over. She was far from the worst roommate Beth had ever had. "Hope it's worth it, dropping school for this," she said.

"We can't all be geniuses," Lindsay smiled. "There's other things out there, you know?"

"Yeah," Beth said.

"What do you want to do, Shepard? What's your out gonna be?"

Beth snorted. "I'm just a kid. Nine can't do anything for anybody. At least, nothing good. No, I'm stuck here for a few more years. But you're damn right I won't be forever. Someday…" She stopped, almost laughing as her face stung and her body throbbed, ashamed to speak her dream aloud.

"Someday?" Lindsay prompted, sleepily. She was half-asleep now.

"The Alliance," Beth whispered. The light hadn't been on to begin with, and now the room was almost entirely dark. "There are worlds out there, light-years away from East Side, and I want to see them. If I can stick it out, just long enough…just long enough…"

"You'll play hero up there in the stars, huh?" Lindsay chuckled. "Get paid to get beat up every week? God, you'd probably be good at it, kid. You stick it out, Shepard. You stick it out."

"And you. Good luck with your job. I hope it goes well for you."

Lindsay turned over. "Yeah. Yeah." Her breathing shifted as she fell asleep, and Beth stared at the ceiling, feeling trapped and young and small and beaten. The stars she longed for felt farther than far, unreachable. The lights of Vancouver polluted the sky so she couldn't even see them.


	6. Nobody's Child: Dead Ends

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: References to Gangs, Drug Use, and Sex. Implied Rape.**

* * *

Nobody's Child: Dead Ends

Sanchez and his flunkies up in the intermediate had started wearing Comets colors, and last week, Beth had seen Jimmy from Ms. Ibanez' on the street corner cutting a drug deal with a junkie with trembling hands, yellow eyes, and yellow teeth. He'd had a gun stuck in the back of his waistband.

Last week, the girl they'd brought in when Lindsay ran, Inez, had walked home alone. Except she was too pretty, pert and tiny with sparkling black eyes and thick dark hair that bounced as she walked, and she'd come home with bruises on her face, a torn shirt, and blood on her pants, sobbing and shaking. She'd only lost her parents three months ago. She didn't know the area, and she didn't know how to take care of herself. Mrs. Miller had been out and Mr. Miller had looked too much like the drunks that had attacked her in the first place, judging by Inez's response, so Beth and Dwight had ended up walking her to the clinic. The nurses there had taken care of her body, but they couldn't fix what the men had done to Inez's head.

And just today, walking back to the home, Beth had recognized one of the strung out whores on the way. Lindsay's friend Grayson's shop had proven another lie to another addict looking for a way out, and by now, Beth knew, Lindsay would be more trapped than she'd ever been in the system, on harder stuff than she'd chosen for herself when she'd had the choice, and never alone in her new flat like she'd wanted.

There were only so many options for an East Side kid with nothing. A few less for a foster kid, a few more for a girl, but those weren't the nice ones. Alice and Katie and Jen had all started wearing makeup and heels to school, and Liz had started going places with Andy afterwards. To the corner store or the movies. The girls in school were growing bodies, and Beth checked the cracked dirty mirror in the bathroom every day, terrified she'd start growing one, too. A foster girl on her own had to defend her body or use her body, or she'd find herself used. Like Lindsay. Like Inez. And Beth got into so many fights anyway.

She knew probably more than half of them were her fault. She couldn't stand bullies. Anytime she saw someone little being beat down by someone bigger, she just got so mad. Well, metaphorically little. Beth was still probably one of the scrawniest kids in the grade. But small didn't mean weak. The other ones that couldn't take it, when they got targeted, Beth sailed in. It was like she was fighting for all the things she couldn't beat at those times. The stupid system, the stupid school, the whole freaking town. Each punch on behalf of the little ones was a punch against every injustice and ugliness around her. Didn't mean she won. She lost, usually, just like she lost against the other stuff. And those fights she didn't start on behalf of others usually started because she couldn't keep her mouth shut, and someone had ended up feeling stupid. Those were the nasty ones, the ones where she ended up fighting five or six at once, and when it was over she was huddled on the asphalt, too bruised to move until the bus had gone once again, biting her tongue 'til the blood came so no one would see her cry.

If she didn't learn to win soon, she'd be in trouble. Big trouble. Except she needed time to learn, and teachers. Beth had some ideas about that. She didn't like them much, but there were only so many options. So these days, when she wasn't watching Annie for the Millers, or telling Inez stories until she slept at last, or cleaning herself up from another fight, she was watching the streets. The ebb and flow of the currents, the power struggle of the neighborhood. Trying to figure where she might go to learn to win against the kids at school, and against everything else. Trying to figure who might teach her, look after her. She didn't have anybody looking out for her. So the thing was to find somebody. She had one last idea before she'd need the research, but if it didn't pan out, she'd seek the rundown shack in the snowstorm. Not a safe place, because nowhere was safe, but shelter, nonetheless.


	7. Nobody's Child: Shepard

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Referenced Rape, Alcohol Use, Child Abandonment. Crime.**

* * *

Nobody's Child: Shepard

She'd actually thought of it the night she and Dwight had taken Inez to the clinic. In the waiting room, Beth had remembered what she'd overheard the social worker telling her boss years ago, that a nurse at that same South Sixteenth Charity Clinic had given Beth her name. The nurse had been there when Beth had been born. The nurse had seen her mother, maybe talked to her. It wasn't much to go on, but it was Beth's last idea before she had to take other steps to find a place to stand on her own, a way to avoid being victimized and learn the things she'd need to know, if she were ever to get out of East Side.

So the first week of the summer, Beth stole a few credits from Mr. Benning's sock drawer. The Bennings were new, somewhat better than the Millers, but they still kept the cash in the same old spot. She took just enough to take the bus down to South Sixteenth and back, hopefully not enough that they'd miss it.

She hopped on the bus a couple blocks away from the Bennings. The route ran right through downtown. Beth snagged a window seat, and she watched the buildings as the bus passed by them. On the corner of Third and Elm, there was a small, neat yellow brick building, sandwiched in between a yoghurt shop and a restored old movie theatre. There were blue starred flags out front, and in neat white letters above the entrance to the building was writ 'Alliance Navy Recruitment Center.' Beth watched the building until the bus had carried her out of sight, and promised herself once again that someday she'd leave East Side and see the stars. One way or another.

South Sixteenth Charity Clinic was a long, low, brown building with a green roof. Everything looked about twenty years out of date, and on the benches around the parking lot, homeless people in patched gray coats sat, but nonetheless it was a comfortable place. Beth had been here a couple of times before, with Inez, but also once when she'd sprained her ankle running from kids at school, and another particularly bad time when they'd caught her, and broken her ribs. Compassionate people worked here, and it had given the entire area a peaceful, safe feeling, despite the misery that walked every day through the doors.

Beth walked up to the front desk. The receptionist was bottle-blond and pleasantly plump. Her name tag read 'Shareen.' Her face was tired, but not hard-looking like almost all of the faces Beth saw every day. "Um…excuse me," Beth said. "I'm looking for Nurse Joan Redding. Does she still work here?"

It had taken some doing to sneak a look at her file back in April, when the new social worker had called her in to place her with the Bennings.

The receptionist blinked. "You don't want to see a doctor?"

"I'm not sick, ma'am," Beth said. "I just need to talk to Nurse Redding. Is she here? I'm sorry, but it's very important."

Shareen activated the console in front of her, shaking her head slightly as she searched the schedule. "She's with a patient," she told Beth. "I—"

"I'll wait," Beth interrupted, as politely as she could, but firmly. "I really need to talk to her."

Shareen looked down at Beth, and hesitated. "Oh, okay, sweetheart. I'll tell her you're here. Who should I say it is?" She opened up a message on the console. Her hands hovered over the screen, waiting for Beth's word.

Now Beth hesitated, suddenly unsure. "Beth. Beth Shepard. I'm not sure if she'll remember me."

But she did.

Twenty minutes after Shareen sent the message, Nurse Joan Redding came out to the front. "Clock me out, Shareen," she said quietly. "It appears I have another engagement."

Shareen looked from the nurse to Beth, baffled, but Beth saw her put in the time into the computer. Nurse Redding followed Shareen's gaze to Beth and spotted her in the waiting room, amongst the coughing and bleeding and desperate, sitting quietly with her hands in her lap. She walked over, and took both of Beth's hands in cool, calloused ones at once, and Beth looked up into dark, kind eyes and forgot her nervousness.

Nurse Redding was a tall, black woman, not pretty, but with a strong, serene face that was better than prettiness, somehow. She wore plain blue scrubs, and her only accessory was a small, gold cross necklace. Beth could tell at once that it was not a fashion statement, but a profession of faith. She tentatively squeezed Nurse Redding's hands.

"I'm Beth Shepard."

"Yes," Nurse Redding replied, a little sadly. "I wondered if you'd come here someday, child. Come with me. You must have questions."

Beth squirmed her hands out of the woman's, stood, and looked her over. "I don't know you," she said. "I'm not an idiot."

Nurse Redding chuckled gently. "No one ever says that unless they feel that they are one."

"I'd be an idiot to go with you," Beth pointed out.

Nurse Redding waited. And Beth set her jaw, and nodded once, because the nurse was right. The conversation would be easier someplace else. She followed the woman out of the clinic.

If the woman had tried to take her someplace private, Beth would've kicked her hard and run, but she didn't. Nurse Redding merely walked her a couple blocks down to a small local coffee shop. The lighting was soft and yellow, a couple kids were playing on a small stage in a corner for tips, and the whole place smelled like chocolate, fresh bread, and coffee. Warm, safe, comfortable smells Beth didn't smell very often. Nurse Redding ordered a cup of black coffee and a small cake, then asked Beth what she wanted. Beth ordered a small cocoa, and Nurse Redding paid, then led them to a tiled table outside on the store's patio.

"Weird how you walk just a couple blocks and the whole city changes," Beth remarked. "Last time I was downtown proper was a field trip back in October to the science museum. I got Mr. Miller to sign the form when he was drunk so Mrs. Miller didn't read it and say no because of the money. I pinched that." She said it baldly, boldly, watching Nurse Redding sideways for a reaction.

"Are the Millers your guardians?"

"Were. Got moved again a couple months back," Beth shrugged. "A guy at the home spilled to the social worker that the two of us had to take care of another girl when she got raped last year. Probably said it 'cause the new social worker's hot, and he was trying to look like a hero or something, but she did her job and started an investigation, and all of us got moved." She shrugged again.

Nurse Redding took a drink of her coffee, and waited. She was a cool one. Beth shifted, uncomfortable. "I never got adopted," she said, although she hadn't meant to explain herself. "Girl with no genetic info? They mod out a lot of diseases now, or at least know what problems the kid might have. Without that information, taking me on was too much of a gamble. Someone might've risked it, but the state doesn't even have a name to start a search so they can offer potential parents a ballpark guess at what problems I might have. And every year…" Beth swallowed hard, and bit her tongue until her eyes stopped stinging.

"Every year it is less likely you will be adopted," Nurse Redding finished. She kept her eyes on Beth's face. "How long has it been now? You are…eleven, if I remember right."

Beth nodded, still biting her tongue. She clenched her fists, too. Her cocoa was cooling. She breathed. Once. Twice. Three times, then swallowed down half of it in one go, and she was fine again.

"I can take it," she said. "I always have. I'll make it some way or another until I can get out, but I thought…I thought maybe it might be easier if I could…do you know anything about my mother? My father? Anyone at all that was there that night you put the name on the certificate?"

Nurse Redding sighed. "I saw your mother," she said. "You're not the only one in the country with no records, you know. I've heard of cases where babies are dropped off, in boxes and such, and some where the mother dies before she can say anything, though that hardly ever happens nowadays. But you weren't like that. Your mother had you at the clinic, and I was the nurse present at the time.

"I guess you favor your daddy, with those gray eyes and that blonde hair, 'cause your mother was dark. Doctor Nolan said it was Greek that she cussed in, when she didn't speak English. She was pretty, though. A little slip of a thing. Her face was shaped like yours."

The news was food to the starving. Beth drank it in. She had her mother's bone structure and skin tone, but she looked like her father, whoever he was. "What do you know about her?" she demanded. "Did she tell you her name? Anything?"

Nurse Redding shook her head. "I'm sorry, honey. She didn't. She showed up alone in labor. We took her straight to a room. She wouldn't take any drugs to help with the pain, and…darling, she left. I took you to get cleaned and weighed and all that. Doctor Nolan went to see about something to help her, but when we came back, she'd gone. She walked right out."

Beth stared. Sometimes she'd imagined she had come in a box, or that her mother had died giving birth to her. Sometimes she'd dared dream that an evil uncle or grandfather had stolen her from her desperate, single mother, taking her in secret to the clinic with no name or papers, and that all these years, if her mother had just known, she would have come for her. Other times she knew that was a fantasy, and she'd imagined a heartbroken woman in the hospital bed, a mute, or speaking a language no one at the clinic could understand, without the translators the higher-end hospitals would give their staff. Or a woman too stupid to know that she should at least give a name to the child she, for some tragic reason, could not keep or send to some other relative. A woman that had given her up without ceremony, but because she couldn't follow the process, not because she wouldn't. In all her imaginings, whenever her actual mother had been present at Beth's arrival to the clinic on April 11, 2154, she had held her, been sad, wanted to keep Beth, but been unable to do so. Now Nurse Redding was telling her that a woman that had spoken English had gone to the clinic, dropped her like some…horse, or something, and walked out without a word before Beth had even been cleaned up properly.

"She…she walked out," Beth repeated stupidly. "She walked out. God, did she refuse the drugs on purpose so she could? Must've had some pain tolerance, but…she walked out?" Her words came faster and faster, and her eyes were stinging again, threatening tears, but Beth couldn't bring herself to care. "She didn't just give me up, she…she didn't even care enough to stick around and…" Beth was breathing far too fast.

"Sweetheart, Beth…" Nurse Redding tried.

"No. No," Beth said, clenching the table now. "Did she say anything in labor? Anything at all?"

Nurse Redding went on, her own eyes moist. "She cussed some and prayed some, and once she said—she said she was no one's mother."

"Yeah, well, she should've thought of that before she got knocked up. Or before she was in the freaking hospital bed having a kid," Beth said bitterly. "Could've aborted, and it would've been better—"

"Don't say that!" Nurse Redding interrupted with sudden vehemence. "Darling, _never_ wish yourself out of existence. Now I'm not saying she was right. She should've held you. Given you a name, at least, if she had to give you up. Something of hers you could have. What she did…no child should have to grow up with that. But you can take it. You told me so yourself. You're brave and strong and smart. I can tell that plain as day. What your mother did was wrong, but stopping that from living, not even giving you a chance? That would've been worse. By far."

Beth was able to breathe again. She just breathed for a long moment as her world shrank, and all the possibilities she'd imagined blinked out like extinguished candles. "Maybe," she said. "I don't wish I was dead, Nurse Redding, but…but…what am I gonna do?" The last words came out almost as a whisper. She wasn't talking to the nurse anymore, but the woman answered anyway.

"Joan. You listen to me, Beth Shepard. You're going to make it, just like you said. You're going to keep going, and you're going to make it, and get out, and do whatever you want to do."

"See the stars," Beth said quietly. "I want to see the stars. Other worlds, other people. This city is enormous, but it's _just so small_."

Joan Redding laughed. "Beth Shepard. Oh, don't ever tell me God doesn't answer prayers."

Beth blinked. "What?"

"Your name," she laughed some more. "They came around with the paperwork, after she'd gone. Your birth certificate's a bunch of crap without any parents on it, just a record for the government to stow away in some database of the date and time you were born, of size and sex and Canadian citizenship. But someone had to give you a name for it, and I wasn't going to let them call you Jane Smith. You deserved more than that."

"So why Beth Shepard?" Beth asked. "And how was it a prayer?"

"Beth's a nice, solid name. Prettier than Jane, and works for just about any girl. I wanted you to make it what you wanted, and hoped it'd do for whoever you grew up to be. But Shepard…Shepard was the prayer. For who _I_ hoped you'd be, a strong girl, a brave girl, a caring girl, a shepherd to the Lord's people, and someone I hoped would rise above anything she went through."

"Alan Shepard," Beth laughed, getting it now. "After the first American in space? Really?"

Joan Redding was still laughing. "Well, you didn't look like a Gagarin."

"Doubt I looked like much of anything," Beth snorted. "Babies usually don't. Nurse Redding—Joan. Thanks. It was a good choice."

"Seems like it. I hope it keeps working for you, Beth." Joan Redding fished a pen out of her purse, and wrote a number on a napkin. "Here. Give me a call if I can help you with anything. I'd like to know what happens to you, Beth Shepard."

Beth stopped smiling. She took the napkin and looked at the numbers, even as she knew she'd never call. Joan Redding was nice, but Beth would never be able to look at her without remembering what she'd learned today. And because she was so nice, Beth really didn't think the nurse would want to hear what would happen to Beth next, what she was going to do. Strong, brave? Maybe. She'd have to be. Caring? A shepherd to God's people? Definitely not. God didn't exist in Beth's world, but she wasn't about to tear him out of Joan Redding's.

So she extended her hand to shake, and Joan Redding took it. Beth grabbed the empty coffee cups and threw them in a nearby bin. "Come on," Joan Redding said. "I'll walk you to the bus station. You got enough to get home?"

"Yeah," Beth said. Pinched that, too, she didn't say. Instead, she went with Joan to the bus, and back to the home without parents, with only a prayer of a name watching over her, instead of the promise of parents she'd gone to find.


	8. Little Beth: Initiation

**Disclaimer: The Tenth Street Reds belong to Bioware, and I hereby resign all rights to the characters I created to place in a gang in the Mass Effect universe.**

**Section Warnings: Crime. Language. Gang Violence.**

* * *

Little Beth: Initiation

It was months of research and work before she was ready. She got their attention by using a school console to send a little program she'd developed herself over to the boss' omnitool. Fritzed all Lopez' tech out, then popped up with a little animation of her laughing and waving, with a simple text message scrolling across the holo-display over and over again. "Hi. I'm Beth. Can I come play?"

She'd chosen the Tenth Street Reds. They were established enough that they didn't feel the need to prove themselves in the gang wars so much, but not so established all the new gangs wanted to take _them_ on to get respect and territory. Took men and women and treated them both the same, or so the word was. They had their fingers in a little bit of everything, without monopolizing any one trade. Drugs, the nastier, illegal gambling, skycar theft and salvaging, hacking, personal protection for some of the baddies that could afford it. Everything but people. The Reds didn't deal in human trafficking or prostitution of any kind, and the boss, Tony Lopez, came down with every all the power he had to bear on any Red that broke that rule.

But the main reason Beth had decided to get the Tenth Street Reds to take her on, the number one reason, was that on the survey of ex-bangers she'd run with hearsay and careful, careful interviews, along with all the other stuff she'd been doing, she'd run into more Reds that had retired out of the gang without any trouble than from any of the others. Her chances of getting out after she'd got in were better with the Tenth Street Reds than they were with the Comets or any of the others.

Two days after she'd sent the program, she caught them following her from the intermediate. There were just two at first. Beth looked directly back at one of them, grinned, winked, and kept going, stomach fluttering with nerves. One of them made a call, and then there were three, then five, then eight. Beth intentionally walked into a back alley, took up her stance, and waited.

Lopez was a stocky man in his early thirties with a sly, deceptive, dimpled smile and thick, curling black hair. He had a gun in the back of his waistband and wore a leather jacket, but otherwise he didn't look at all like a banger and neither did his crew, which was probably, Beth reasoned, why his gang mostly flew under the radar of the cops. The men and women with him, hard-faced and silent, ranging in age from a kid just a couple years older than Beth to a man that looked to be in his forties, and dressed to allow freedom of movement, fanned out to circle Beth while Lopez stood opposite. His omnitool still flickered with Beth's program, and Beth allowed herself to smile.

"Beth, huh?" he said, quietly.

"Beth Shepard," she said. Her mouth was dry.

"Beth Shepard. Little Beth. You gonna tell me what the hell you've done to my omnitool?"

"No," Beth said, more bravely than she felt. "But I'll shut it down for you, and if you want, I'll do it again for you. To someone else. Or I could do something else. Hack somebody's account, maybe, or shut down somebody's security. Or build up your security so nobody can hack it."

Lopez gave her the once-over. "What are you? Nine?" he scoffed.

"Twelve," Beth bristled. "They'll never see me coming. You didn't. And none of your people did, either, or could stop me, or you wouldn't be here, would you?"

"This isn't a game, little girl," Lopez said. "Go back to your parents."

"Don't have any. Nothing holding me back."

"Yeah, 'cept a fart would blow you away," snorted the youngest of the ones Lopez had brought with him, a tall, red-headed girl of about sixteen with a scar on her cheek. "Lopez, she's just a stupid kid. Forget her. Grab another omnitool off the ones we lifted last week."

"Kid, yes, but hardly a stupid one, I think," Lopez murmured. "Still," he said. "Stace is right. Go home, Little Beth."

Lopez stood aside and extended his arm, but Beth didn't move. "You need me," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

Lopez looked at her for a long moment, and looked around at the guys he'd brought. Some of them looked impressed, but mostly, they looked doubtful. Some, like Stace, looked annoyed. Lopez shook his head then. "I warned you," he said, and signaled the crew. "Teach her a lesson."

Beth used everything she'd ever learned in years of schoolyard fistfights against groups older and bigger than she was, and it wasn't enough. There were seven of them, all full grown and experienced, and she was still little, like they said, and all on her own. She kicked and clawed and punched and bit, but the fists were too big, too heavy. She staggered under the blows, fell. The blows slackened off at once. The idea was to punish her for wasting their time and trashing Lopez' omnitool, not kill her. Beth staggered back to her feet and put her fists back up before they'd had a chance to back off.

"That all you got?" she gasped, tasting blood from her nose and hearing the ringing in her ears. Her knuckles were red, and she thought maybe a couple of her ribs were broken.

Three of them hesitated, stood back. Stace was one. The other four came at her again. Again Beth fought them, battling just not to drown in pain, just to keep standing. Her arms went every which way, but didn't stave off the blows, like rain. She cried out as one twisted her arm and dislocated her shoulder. She fell to her knees.

Again Lopez' Reds fell back. A few feet away Beth saw Lopez watching her. She climbed to her feet again. "Just stay down, kid!" Stace yelled. "Stay down!"

"I…I could…I could do this all day," Beth ground out from between clenched teeth.

Now only one of them came, a big, towheaded man with dirty teeth and an ugly smile. He, alone of them, was enjoying this. He came down with the edge of his hand on Beth's dislocated shoulder, and Beth screamed. He aimed another punch right at her face, but Lopez whistled sharply, and he held, then stepped back.

"Enough." He walked forward again, touched Beth's face gently, assessing the damage. Beth winced. "You got guts, Little Beth. I'll give you that."

"Well, thanks," Beth managed through a bloody mouth. Her tongue was bleeding more than her split lip, from biting it to keep off the tears. "Out of gratitude for that, I'll even—ah!"

She cried out again as Lopez shoved her arm sharply back into its socket.

"I'll even give your people their stuff back."

"What…?" Lopez asked.

Beth took a breath, and reached into her pockets, and produced the credits, IDs, and keys she'd managed to lift off the crew in the struggle. Learning to pick pockets, and under duress, had taken Beth even longer than developing the omnitool hack and researching the local gangs.

Lopez looked, and stared. Then he laughed. "Guys, take a look at this." He took the stuff from Beth and passed it around. There were murmurs of disbelief, shock, approval.

"Son of a bitch!"

"While she was…Hah!"

"She got _you_, too, Sam?"

Lopez shook his head. "Well, Little Beth. Welcome to the Reds."

Six of the seven murmured assent. All except that last guy, the big guy. He stared coldly down at Beth as the others welcomed her with varying degrees of enthusiasm or disbelief.

And Stace said her welcome reluctantly, and as the crew dispersed, after Lopez gave her instructions to base and orders to show up in a few days once she'd healed up, she stuck around. "I've got a sister your age," she said. "If she ever set foot near the bangers I'd kill her. I'm here so she doesn't have to be. Kid, why didn't you just stay down?"

"Can't," Beth said through a jaw rapidly swelling. "I don't have a sister."

Stace sighed. "Well, we can certainly use you. Old Lukas is about twenty years out of date with tech. You'll meet him later, I guess. Come with me. I'm pretty sure Jim broke some of your ribs with one of those hits. I heard the crack. Let's get you to the clinic."

"No!" Beth cried, much more vehemently than she intended. "No," she said, more quietly. "I'll take some meds at the home. I wouldn't be able to move if one had pierced something important, and I've had broken ribs before. I know what to do."

"Some reason you don't want to go to the clinic?" Stace asked.

"I…I don't like doctors," Beth lied. The nearest clinic was actually South Sixteenth. She didn't want to risk running into Joan Redding the night her shepherd had joined a gang.


	9. Little Beth: After Hours

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Crime. Alcohol Use. Language.**

* * *

Little Beth: After Hours

"Hey, Little Beth!" Finn called, raising his beer to her. "Why don't you join us?"

Beth tipped a wave at the celebrating group in the corner of the warehouse Lopez ran the Reds out of after hours. "I'm twelve, you idiot," she called back. "It's illegal!" Everyone laughed at that. "Besides, I got to help old Lukas here repair your getaway car and get to bed early, so I can wake up in the morning and get you all paid to get drunk tomorrow, too."

Everyone laughed again. Kitty called a toast in the corner to Beth, and the group forgot about it and went back to drinking and talking shit. Except Lukas Greer, fifty-nine, the oldest of the Reds, their main hacker and tech before Beth, standing beside her next to the skycar. He watched her from wrinkled brown eyes, grinned, and shook his head.

"I've forgotten more tech than you'll ever know, Shepard."

"I know," Beth murmured, quietly. "But they don't. Not yet. I pulled one big, shiny trick to start and they think it's who I am. Took me weeks to work it out. But you can teach me more. Why do you think I stay late every day? It's not 'cause I love the smell of beer and piss."

"You've got some potential," Lukas admitted. "Got the feel for it, and you're quick, and those are things you can't teach. But you can do other stuff, too, Shepard. You bring in a lot of game on the weekends."

"Cops don't look for a kid when they're looking for leads on the gambling rings," Beth shrugged. "And the ones that aren't sure if they're interested think I'm cute and decide they are. It won't last. So I have to learn other stuff."

"Not just tech. Fighting and shooting, too. You think I don't see you making up to 'em all, getting them to show you stuff during the downtime?" Lukas laughed a cracked, creaky laugh that was somehow still pleasant, as he showed her how he was rewiring the engine to give it more speed. Beth studied the process, committing it to memory, then fiddled with the computer so the speedometer history would report that the car had been going ten kilometers per hour less than it actually had been going, when the cops checked the driver's story. Lukas grinned at her. "Good girl," he said.

"I like to learn," she said.

"But not to play." His eyes went over to the corner.

Beth shifted. Lukas watched her shrewdly. "It's alright, Shepard. Only the stupid ones go in to the gangs by choice, and you don't strike me as stupid," he murmured. "I guess you'll relax eventually. They're ready to love you, you know."

Beth didn't answer. She grabbed a rag and started polishing. Lukas sighed. "Come here. I'll show you some common backdoors into computer systems."


	10. Little Beth: Potential

**Disclaimer: I reiterate that the Tenth Street Reds belong to Bioware. Finch, in particular, is straight out of Mass Effect.**

**Section Warnings: Violence, Language, Allusions to Crime.**

* * *

Little Beth: Potential

Sweat beaded on Beth's brow, threatening to run into her eyes, and she grinned at the four people opposite her. Kitty and Jim looked nervous. Finch was angry. Only Stace was cool as ever, watching her every move for tells. Finch came first. He punched out, and Beth sidestepped and caught his arm. She threw him over her hip and kicked him lightly in the ribs, just hard enough so he knew she could destroy him, if she wanted.

Kitty and Jim came next. They tried to catch her between them, trap her, but she ducked out, caught Jim a blow to the head right to a pressure point, not nearly hard enough to kill, or quite hard enough to knock him out, but enough that he fell back, dazed, and sat down hard enough that his ass would probably hurt more than his head. Kitty got in a good blow to Beth's thigh. Beth's leg almost buckled, but she'd already aimed her punch to wind Kitty, and it connected, breaking her air and making her stagger back. Beth swept her foot around and hit just above Kitty's ankle, really making her legs buckle beneath her, and she went down with her husband.

Then Stace was on her, faster than all the others and a lot smarter. She was, after all, the one that had taught Beth to fight smart instead of hard in the first place. Dodge, duck, block, guard, don't move until you _move_, the three years of instruction played over and over in Beth's head as she went at it hammer and tongs with Stace. Finally, she caught Stace in a hold. Stace could get out, if she wanted. But the point was that Beth had been able to catch her at all.

Beth laughed aloud, then, like lightning, drew Stace's gun, turned, and aimed at the range target across the warehouse. Checking the sight lines in a heartbeat, she fired the pistol once, twice, five times into the target, twenty three meters away.

There were eleven of them in just then, counting Beth's sparring partners. About half the gang. But for a long moment after she fired the gun, it was dead silent in the warehouse. Then, Lopez got up off of the crate he'd been sitting on and walked all the way to the other end of the warehouse to the target, and Beth realized exactly how stupid she'd been.

Hastily, she handed the gun back to Stace. Stace took it without a word. Lukas Greer watched Beth with pale face and worried eyes, shaking his head. Across the warehouse, Lopez looked at the target. Then, he walked back. Slowly, he began to clap. Each clap rang out like the shots from before, and made Beth shudder.

"Dead center, every shot," he said. "I'd like to see what you could do with a moving target, Shepard. Seems our Little Beth's grown up into the deadliest hitter in the Reds. That was some display."

Beth laughed, but the laugh sounded hollow. "I probably just got lucky, Tony. And Stace totally could've had me, if she wanted. In a second. I wouldn't stand a chance against Nash, either."

She glanced nervously at Lopez' number two. The Reds were thieves and criminals, but for the most part, they were alright. They looked out for their own and made their way, but that was business. But Nash was a different story. Beth had known that from day one, even before she'd known his name, when he'd relished making her scream when all the others had hesitated putting her on the ground, as little as she'd been back then. Now he watched her with his cold green eyes, appraising her.

"Maybe," he said, in his gravelly baritone. "Maybe not. You're damn good, Little Beth. Could be a soldier, like Stace. Couple of jobs we could use you on."

"I need her," Lukas spoke up. He shrugged, as if embarrassed. "These old hands don't move like they used to, and I don't see so good, anymore. You got someone else who can do what she does? Your tech support takes a hell of a dive if you make Beth a heavy, Tony."

"Besides," Stace said, "She's still sloppy. Left her left wide open there at the end, and we've never practiced on a moving target, like you said. Geek like Beth'd probably freak, when push came to shove and things got hot."

Beth felt a rush of gratitude and affection for both of them. Lopez considered. "Alright," he said. "But keep working with her, Stace. Beth, you sure you want to stay in school, though? Nash is right. We could use you full time. You could help Lukas and do more."

"The minute I drop out I'm half the use," Beth argued. "I'm not suspicious after four and on the weekends. Cops see me in the day and they know something's up, even if they think I'm just playing hooky. I don't want you caught 'cause of me."

Lopez shrugged then. "Have it your way," he said. He ruffled her hair. "But I'm watching you, Little Beth. Man, when you graduate? We're going to tear it up!"

He turned away, and so did everyone else, going back to talking and drinking and whatever. But Nash continued to watch her with his cold green eyes.

Stace jerked her head, and Beth followed her out of the warehouse. "You're playing with fire, Shepard," she said. "That was too close. You can't practice back there anymore. Not where the others can see you."

"I know," Beth said. "Can you hold off Tony?"

"Only if you lay low," Stace warned. "He likes you, and he doesn't want you hurt any more than Lukas and me. But he's the boss, and he's got to use his resources. He'll pretend to forget you're one, as a favor to me, but that's only if Nash and Finch and them don't remind him. He's got to stay in charge, too. If Nash ran the show—"

"I know," Beth said. "I know. I'll lay low. Stick to the tech where the others can see. I just—"

"You're good," Stace said. "You wanted to feel it for a moment. I get it. But don't slip again. You don't want to have to do the stuff I've done."

Beth looked up into her friend's hard, scarred face. "I don't want to do the stuff I've done."

"I know, Beth. I know."

Stace put an arm around Beth's shoulders, and the two of them walked on into the night.


	11. Little Beth: Cuckoo

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Language, Reference to abortion.**

* * *

Little Beth: Cuckoo

"Beth? It is you, isn't it? Look at you! You've got to be downright pretty!" Joan Redding looked Beth up and down, delighted. "What are you doing back here?"

"My friend—"Beth began.

"Yes. What's your name, dear?"

"Stacey Paxton," said the same. "I need…I need you to run a test. I think I'm pregnant. Four of those convenience store kits say so, anyway. I need to confirm it. And then…then I need to decide what the hell to do." Stace looked like glue, Beth thought, white and sweaty. Hardly glowing, and scared as hell. Beth wondered if her own mother had looked like that when she'd found out she was expecting a baby.

"Yes, of course. I'm Nurse Redding. I'll just need to take your vitals, and then you'll need to give me a urine sample," said the nurse smoothly. She took Stace's blood pressure, weight, height, asked her age. Stace wouldn't be a teen mom, but she'd just barely missed it. Nurse Redding took down all the information, then when Stace went to give her urine sample, she asked Beth. "So, how do you two know each other?"

"She's my neighbor," Beth lied. "Sometimes she and her sister Meg help me watch the little kids when my guardians go out." That part was not a lie.

"Nice of you to come to the clinic with her. How are _you _doing, sweetheart? Really?"

"Fine. I'm fine, Nurse Redding," Beth said, but she shifted guiltily.

"I was surprised you never called. I hoped to hear from you, after we met."

Beth winced. "Look, you told me about my mom. I appreciated it. Well. I know it can't have been easy, and you were really nice about it. But that's it, okay? You gave me a name to go on the paperwork, but that's as far as we go. Don't act like you know me."

Joan Redding watched her with the eyes that had seen too much and made her say too much five years ago, and saw too much again. "What are you into, child? Why are you ashamed?" she asked quietly. But then Stace came back, and she had to take the urine sample, and take the paperwork back to the doctor.

Beth cursed, and shifted in her seat. "What's up with the nurse? How do you know her?" Stace asked, even though she didn't really care. She was too preoccupied with her own problems.

"My mom ran out on me the day I was born and never even named me," Beth said. "That was the woman that did. She told me the short, sad story a few years back and apparently thinks she owns part of me now or something. I haven't seen her since. Didn't want to see her."

"I like her," Stace said. She looked at Beth. "You do, too, don't you, Shepard? That's why you didn't want to see her. Why you lied."

"Same reason you don't talk to Meg about the things you do for the Reds," Beth said. "Have you told her yet? About this?"

She gestured to the room, Stace's stomach.

"No."

"Told Tony?"

Stace shook her head. "You're the only one that knows, Beth," she said. "Might not ever go further. I'm nobody's mother."

Beth hugged her arms around herself. "That's what my mother said, according to Nurse Redding," she said. "Will you abort, then?"

Stace stared at the floor. "I don't know," she murmured. "I just…it's already a strain, with me and Meg. I can't take care of a baby, too. And it's not like Uncle Dave does shit for us."

"With you looking out for her, Meg could get a job," Beth said. "She would if you asked her. She's smart. It'd be minimum wage, but they'd hire, and it'd help. Tony would help, too, if you asked him. Hell, I think he'd marry you now, even without knowing. Take care of you and Meg and the baby. I think he'd've asked already if he thought you'd say yes."

Stace shook her head. "And what kind of life would that be, Shepard? I love the bastard, but there's no stability, no security there. The minute either one of us slips up, the second something goes wrong on a job, pfft, that's it. I get shot, or he gets busted and goes to jail for ten years. Plus, he still thinks he's too old for me."

"It is a fifteen year age gap," Beth pointed out.

"I don't care, and until he doesn't either we're casual," Stace said fiercely. "I won't have him regretting anything, Beth. Not a thing. So this? Whatever happens, it's on me. I was the moron that forgot to take her damn pill."

Beth stared up at her friend. "Say whatever you want, Stace, you'd be a fantastic mother," she said, and she'd never meant anything more in her life. "All the abusive shrews, whiny idiots, and selfish cows in the world that have kids? You'd love that baby to death. You'd take care of him. Or her. No matter what. And that kid would grow up to kick ass."

Stace smiled slightly, softening her freckled, scarred face momentarily so the strong, beautiful young woman underneath the Reds' top hitter shone out just for a moment. "It would, wouldn't it?" she murmured. "And God, the kid'd be cute."

"I don't know," Beth teased. "Tony and a ginger? The kid could be pretty weird looking, if you ask me." She nudged Stace's shoulder with her own.

"No. It'd be cute," Stace said. "Beth. You think I should keep it?"

"I think that's up to you," Beth answered. "But Stace, if you decide to carry to term, but give it away, hold the kid before you do. Give it a name, and give yours, and pass on your medical records. Just, if you give it a chance, one way or the other, make sure it's a _real_ chance."

Stace looked down at her. "Yeah," she promised, seriously. "Yeah, I will. But Beth? You do alright. You know that, don't you?"

Beth looked down. "Lied to Nurse Redding, though," she said.

"You never hurt anybody," Stace argued for her. "Never even ripped off anybody unless you were damn sure they deserved it. You think I don't notice, how careful you are not to get in too deep? You're headed places, and you won't let the Reds, or anything stop you."

"Is it that obvious I'm going to leave?" Beth asked, ashamed.

"Only to those of us that know you," Stace said, "And you've been careful that doesn't happen much, either. I think Lukas knows, too, but no one else, and neither of us want to stop you."

Beth felt unaccountably guilty. She certainly didn't want to stay hip deep in the Tenth Street Reds her entire life, but Stace was her friend, and suddenly, especially here, now, what she planned felt like abandonment. "Stace, I'm—I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Stace said. "Nothing holding you back. I hope you do get out. Tear up the world for the rest of us, right? For me. I'd be a lousy friend to want to keep you when you have a shot at something better."

"So do you," Beth said. "It'll be harder for you, Stace, but one way or another, you'll make it. You will. You'll make things good for you and yours, for Meg, and whoever else comes along. You may have to do it differently. But I think you're getting to the place where you might be able to do that."

"Maybe," Stace said pensively. "You're a good friend, Beth. Thanks for coming here with me."

"Yeah," Beth said, as a hand touched the doorknob, signaling the doctor's arrival with news, and counsel, one way or the other.


	12. Little Beth: A Place to Sleep

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: References to Sex, Crime, Child Abuse, and Underage Alcohol and Drug Use.**

* * *

Little Beth: A Place to Sleep

Beth trudged into the home sometime after nine, but the Hardins were still shouting at one another. They'd probably started the quarrel two hours ago, when Mr. Hardin had come in late for dinner, and Mrs. Hardin had started asking him where he'd been. It'd been the same for three years now. Funny, how joining the Reds had actually been good for Beth's home stability. The Hardins didn't really care where she'd been, so long as didn't cause trouble at the home and babysat when they wanted to go out and "reconnect." They weren't bad guardians, as far as foster parents went. But God, they were annoying.

The Hardins took no notice of her as she passed through the worn brown living room and into the green linoleum kitchen, but just kept bickering over the coffee table. There was a yellow note on the fridge in Mrs. Hardin's handwriting that said Jack from school had called again for Beth. Beth sighed and crumpled it up before throwing it in the trash. The boy wouldn't take the hint that she just wasn't interested. She didn't need that crap. Didn't need anything holding her back.

Beth grabbed a paper plate out of the cabinet and helped herself to some cold ham and green bean casserole from the fridge. She didn't bother heating it up, but wolfed it down standing, washed her fork, tossed the plate, and grabbed her water bottle, by the sink in the draining pan. She filled it up with tap water, screwed the lid on, and walked back through her shouting guardians to her room with a tired, sarcastic wave they didn't even acknowledge.

If the Hardins had been asleep at this point, Beth might have heard high, strung out sex going on down the hall. But since they weren't and she didn't, Beth just bet the window in Janey's room was open, and she'd snuck out to see Ethan, or Joey, or whatever loser she was sleeping with this week. Theo was pumping his music anyway out of the cheap ass stereo he'd saved for weeks to get secondhand, though, trying to drown out the noise, because shouting or sex, no one wanted to hear that. Beth envied him, but she saved her money for other things.

Beth's room was small and brown like the living room. Brown linen curtain over ratty brown blinds. A table and chair with an ancient console on top. A small, chipped mirror that hung over it. But none of that was Beth's. Her five or six sets of clothes were hung and folded in a closet that was still too small, and the rest of her stuff was in her old blue duffel, faded and falling apart, that she still kept in the corner by the bed even after three years, out of habit, and increasingly now because she'd need it again someday soon.

The bed was low and the mattress bumpy, but right now, that wasn't the problem. Caitlin was on it, even though since Janey was out, she could sleep in her own room tonight. "Beth!"

Beth sighed, threw her backpack over by her duffel, and opened her arms obligingly for the five year old. The little girl hugged her with that incredible strength Beth always saw in the smallest, scared ones. Hugging tight to anything solid and good they could find in their cold, crappy world.

"Catey, what are you doing here?" Beth said. "You should be asleep. Janey's not here, is she?"

"No, she's out, but I can't sleep. Not with Theo and them. Anyway, I like it better with you," Caitlin said, cheerfully selfish. She had no idea how much she kicked, and she never remembered the nightmares she had about her daddy in the morning. And Beth was so, so tired.

It was exam time at school, and then she'd pulled a hack-and-heist on the Comets this afternoon, against tougher security than she'd ever gone up against. Then Nash had come in from a job, and without Stace, he ran into a lot more trouble these days. The skycar had been badly banged up, and Beth had had to put in a few hours fixing it, too, and later, punch out Will when he'd got too handsy when the celebrating on the other side of base had been going on a while. It was a shame, too. They got on when Will was sober. He'd probably be pissy tomorrow. He hadn't been around a couple years back when Beth was still practicing fighting in the base. Beth was just the tech chick to him, and he had a bit of an ego. It'd probably be a couple weeks before they could be friends again. Well, friendly. Stace and Lukas were still her only real friends in the Reds. Everyone else was too damn sold on the whole thing, and therefore too dangerous.

Still, Beth hugged Caitlin back to her and stroked her hair. "Alright," she said. "You can stay. Try to sleep now, okay? I'm going to be up a while."

"I'll try," Caitlin promised. All she'd needed was the permission. Already in her nightshirt, she snuggled down immediately into the threadbare striped sheets and the wool comforter, somehow managing to hog most of the tiny bed with her tiny self, and clutching her stuffed rabbit to her, the last gift from her mother before the neighbors had called the social worker about her father.

Beth went over to the closet and changed into the old, soft t-shirt she slept in. She smelled her clothes, decided they were still okay, and hung them back up in the closet. Then she went over to her backpack, and opened it. She ignored the datapad where she kept all her homework. What with exams, most of it wasn't due until halfway through next week, anyway. Instead, Beth looked over the three tablet novels she'd checked out from the library. She decided _Ships in Space: The Basics of Three-Dimensional Military Strategy_ sounded more appealing tonight than _Humanity United: A Short History of the Alliance_ or _Not Alone: A Traveler's Guide to Alien Culture. _She'd had it with people today, and cold, impersonal physics sounded beautiful.

Outside in the living room, Mrs. Hardin had finally stopped yelling and started crying, and now Mr. Hardin would be all soft reassurances. Beth still hadn't decided whether they were honest or not, whether Mrs. Hardin actually had a reason to be suspicious and angry. Honestly, she didn't care, but it meant that it was quieter now. Theo had turned off his music, too. Behind Beth, Caitlin's breathing was slowing.

She stood with the book and moved to the bed. Gently, she resituated Caitlin, and Caitlin made a small groan of protest, then snuggled up to Beth.

"Read it to me?" she asked sleepily.

"It's not a story, Caitlin," Beth warned. "It's another one of those that won't make any sense."

"Don't care. Like to hear you. Please?"

Beth softened. "Alright." She activated the book, and the screen lit up. Beth took a drink from the bottle she'd placed beside her bed, and began to read.


	13. Little Beth: Out of the Bag

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Character Death. References to Gang Violence and Crime. Language.**

* * *

Little Beth: Out of the Bag

"Stace, get Tony out of here. I've got Meg and Hope, don't worry. Jim, Kitty, move that crate over there over the target. Nash, Finch, take the car and get lost."

Stace looked with wide, terrified eyes at her little sister and her baby as she held up Lopez, half-conscious and losing blood fast. But she obeyed immediately. Meg, sitting on an overturned crate, was still white as chalk from her ordeal. The marks on her wrists where she'd been held were angry red, and Hope, held in her aunt's arms, was wailing like no tomorrow.

Sam and Ren were tying up the last of the turians on the floor. One of them started to come to. He caught sight of Beth. She didn't have a translator implant like Tony and Nash, so she didn't understand the words he spat, but the tone and the look in his eyes was unmistakable. Ren kicked him sharply.

"None of that!" Beth said sharply. "Leave it to the cops."

"But Beth…" Ren looked at the body on the floor. Lukas lay where he fell, in a horrible pool of blood. Beth didn't look.

"_Leave it_," she repeated. Ren nodded, and stepped back from the turians. "Nash, Finch, I said get lost. The car can't be here when the cops show up, and neither can you. They saw you last week at the shooting. They can't link that to this. _Get gone_."

"I don't know where you get off, Shepard-" Nash began hotly.

Beth rounded on him, drawing her pistol and aiming right at Nash's left eye. "I said, get gone."

"You wouldn't," Nash sneered. He jerked his head at the prisoners. "You're soft, Shepard. You didn't kill them, and you won't kill me. And the cops are coming."

"Try me," Beth snarled. "You were there at the shooting. It's your fault this happened. The cops can connect this to the shooting after all. They don't have to know it wasn't just a one-gang fight gone bad. That's what I'll tell them, and that we killed you in self-defense here. You think the others won't back me up? I'm giving you a chance. But time's running out."

Nash looked at her, evaluating, deciding.

"Come on, Nash," Finch said quietly.

Jim activated the cargo door. Nash and Finch got in the skycar, and drove away. In the distance, Beth heard the sirens coming. She turned to the desk behind her, opened a drawer, and pulled out several plastic ID cards. "Will. Hand these out," she said, attaching one to her shirt. "Now we're employees here," she told everyone in the room quickly. "We're going to keep things simple. Meg, you were coming to visit your sister, okay? You listening?"

Meg shook herself, and nodded, mutely, patting Hope on the back. "You were coming with your niece to visit your sister as a surprise, but she'd already stepped out to get takeout for us all," Beth continued. "Then it was a raid, just like Nash's last week. The Suns came in for skycar parts. They didn't like our rates. Sam, you were supposed to give them to the guy in the red. They took you and the baby hostage at gunpoint to secure a getaway, Meg. Then it's just like what actually happened, except Nash, Stace, Finch, and Tony were never here. The only gun our side had was this one, Tony's, that I grabbed from his office. Lukas still tried to free Meg, and they still shot him, and we still used the distraction to neutralize the situation. Self-defense. It'd be a clear cut case, anyway, but let's not go into the details. Jim, Kitty, Will, Ren? You guys helped me take them down." Beth looked around as Will handed the last fake warehouse worker ID to Sam, extremely glad she'd made them all those months ago on a whim.

"Everyone got it?"

There was barely time for a nod before there was a shout at the door. "Police! Come out with your hands up!"

"It's alright!" Beth yelled back. "The situation's been dealt with and the attackers have been restrained. Call an ambulance, though. We've got one body. We're coming out now. I've got one gun, but I'm ejecting the ammo pack now." She ejected the ammo pack, letting the sound echo through the warehouse and out the open doors. Then she went to Meg. She put an arm around the girl and the baby. "Come on. It'll be okay, you'll see."

* * *

The entire gang talked up her part in the scuffle. The police called her a hero. The local news called, asking for an interview. It was a great story they said, with tragedy, alien interest, and the salvation of two young lives. The people would want to know. Beth turned them down and they had to do with a ten second bit that barely scraped the surface. But that was just as well. The less said the better.

The Reds would be dangerously close to the radar for a long time in any event. Until further notice, they wouldn't be using Lopez' warehouse after hours as a base.

Beth got two texts on her omnitool at the end of that week, though, and Saturday morning, she made her way to Lopez' place, a decent enough downtown apartment. Since Stace and Meg had moved in, it'd been fixed up a bit, and it was now quite a homey little place.

All Lopez' most trusted people were there, camped out on the couch and around the table. Ren, Will, Sam. And Nash, perched on the ottoman, long legs under him ready to spring, like a large, blonde spider, glowering darkly at Beth. Stace was leaning up against the kitchen wall, rocking Hope gently, and Tony was near her, arm in a sling.

"Well, well, Little Beth," he said, laughing at her in his way. "Looks like everyone's here. I think we need to talk about what went down Tuesday." More seriously, he said, "You saved everyone's ass, Shepard. Saved Stace and her sister. Saved my daughter."

"I didn't save everyone."

"Greer was slow," Nash said. "He should've retired ages ago. Incredible he lasted as long as he did. I've been expecting him to kick it every day for years."

"You shut up, Nash," Stace snapped. "He was a good man."

There were murmurs of agreement from Sam and Ren. "I'm going to miss that old bastard," Tony admitted. "He was a Red through and through. I'm sorry he's gone. But there's no question that it could've been a hell of a lot worse."

"It was a bad job from the get-go, Tony," Stace said. "Nash and Finch moving on their own? Against the Blue Suns? They're so far out of our league it's not even…they could've annihilated us. All of us. Would have, if Beth hadn't caught Meg's signal and sounded the alarm so we were ready."

"They could still take us out," Nash growled. "_Little Beth_ didn't have the stomach to kill the fucking aliens, even after they captured Meg and shot dear Lukas. You think more aren't going to come after us for landing their guys in jail? Violence is the only thing these people understand."

"Killing their guys would've started a gang war that we'd _lose_," Beth said. "Besides, they won't go to a jail on Earth. Turian. The cops will have to turn them over to the turian government, and they'll go to jail in turian space."

"Oh, so the fucking turians will just turn them loose and they'll come right back to get even themselves," Nash retorted. "Yeah, letting them go was a _great_ idea."

"Will they go to the turian government?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Ren confirmed. "Local Earth government isn't authorized to hold aliens, even if they break local law. Only the Alliance, and I didn't think to call them, instead."

"More and more aliens are visiting Earth. Laws need to catch up, or little operations like ours will be the least of the cops' problems," Sam remarked.

"That's neither here nor there," Stace said. "Will they come back, Beth?"

Beth shook her head. "No. They're criminals. Turians? They aren't like humans. Totally civic minded. Every single one of them is expected to represent their race and uphold the law with honor. Those that don't are outcasts. They get caught? No way the turians let them wander around free to continue screwing over their reputation as galactic peacekeepers."

Sam snorted a laugh. "No, those guys would be better off if they were going to an Earth prison," Beth finished. "And I'd bet the turians send a team down here to take care of any Suns presence in the city, too."

"Just what we need. More aliens in our city," Nash muttered.

"Lay off, Nash. Everyone knows how you feel about aliens," Tony said. "You're just lucky I didn't let Stace shoot you for what happened because of it this time."

Nash shot Tony a look toxic enough to burn. Beth and Stace saw it, and exchanged a glance. Nash was getting more out of control every year. Stace had said before that the only reason things hadn't exploded yet was because Nash was Tony's friend from way back. But after Tuesday, Beth thought that it was only a matter of time. There was no friendship in Nash's eyes now. This whole mess was at his feet and he knew it, and it made him angry, and more dangerous than ever.

"Better to let _her_ do it," Nash said, jerking his head at Beth. "Prove _Little Beth's_ got guts as well as brawns and all those brains. She's been holding out on us. If I betrayed the Reds, let her hold 'em up."

Lopez shook his head. "We've already lost Lukas, Nash. I'm not going to lose you, too. But he is right, Shepard. You been holding out on us. That shit back when? When you were kicking everybody's ass for a while in practice? It didn't stop, did it?"

Beth went still. "I'm a tech, Lopez," she said flatly. "Only one you got, now."

"Maybe, maybe," he said. "But you're also a hell of a fighter, crack shot, and a cool head in a crisis, not to mention apparently an authority on aliens. We're learning a lot about you, aren't we, kid?"

"She's not a Red, not really," Nash sneered. "I been watching her for years. She never put everything into us, Tony. She _never _did. Never shares a drink with her friends at the end of the day. Just sits still and watches. Learns whatever she can and does just enough you keep her around. Not half of what she could. _Little Beth_. Hah! She could kick all of our asses to hell and back, even your precious Stace, or save us a fuck-ton of work every damn day, but she doesn't have the heart. She's a dynamo, but it's _wasted_ on the bitch."

"Fuck off, Nash!" Stace said hotly. "Or I'll kick _your_ ass to hell and back."

At her tone, Hope woke up and started to whimper. Stace rushed to soothe her. "Yeah, Mommy?" Nash laughed. "I'd like to see you try. You've lost your stuff, Paxton. You've gone soft. If you weren't always, deep down. You were always backing Shepard, anyway. Right from day one."

"Because she's a kid, Nash," Ren said. "She's _still_ a kid. Talented, but she's got time."

"Seventeen. How old were you when you made your first sand run? Sam? When did you jack your first car? Hmm?"

Ren and Sam blinked, and looked at Beth with new eyes. "You always _do_ stay out of the big jobs, Beth," Ren said. "You don't even bring customers to the game, anymore."

"Since I turned fifteen when I come up to talk they think I'm a badly dressed prostitute," Beth defended. "And either way that ends doesn't turn out well for me or the game."

"If they're interested, you disappoint them and they leave angry. If they're not, they don't buy in," Ren said. "Okay. Fine. But you could handle other jobs, Beth. Definitely."

"Yeah, so maybe I could," Beth said. "But you need a tech. I'm better where I am. Learned it from you, Lopez," she said. "Gang's best offense is a good defense, anonymity. I help you stay low. Keep your car running, your weapons in shape, and your security tight. I get you away in a pinch and run interference when someone tries to hack you. I get caught or even IDd on a job, by the cops or someone else, you're suddenly running at half efficacy, without a defense."

Tony'd been watching all this time, hearing the argument, reserving judgment. "Awfully hard sell there, Little Beth. Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he said, but Beth knew by his tone she'd made her case. She'd proved on Tuesday that in a crisis she _would _step up. Lopez owed her and he knew it, and besides, Nash was obviously looking for a fight. "You graduate in a few weeks, right?"

"Yeah."

"Top of your class, Stace tells me."

"I did well enough. I'm not valedictorian."

"Oh, seventh in a class of fifteen hundred," Stace snorted. "_Well enough_."

"You'll have your diploma, no cop will see you and think you're playing hooky," Lopez continued in a reasonable tone. "You can get job and go to work like the rest of the world. Couple openings in the warehouse. I hear you've already got an ID. You'll have time to do more than just the defense. She'll play her part, Nash. Will that make everybody happy?"

Stace looked at Beth. Beth kept her face impassive. "Sure," she lied. "I'll be glad of the extra money. They would've kicked me out of the home last week. Aged out of it, but they like to encourage kids to finish school. I'll need to get my own place, anyway."

Tony extended his good arm to shake, and Beth shook. Nash grunted and glared, but didn't argue. "Be good to have you full time, Shepard," Sam said. "Place is a little brighter when you're around. And if we get into another tussle with some turians, you can save all our asses again. I'll teach you to get shipments out the airport. We'll have you making runs by summer's end."

_By summer's end_, Beth thought, _I will be so far gone you won't even know what system I'm in_. She looked over at Nash. He was right, though not the way he thought. It wasn't that she didn't have the guts, but she wasn't a Red. She'd been careful for another reason, and now, it didn't matter that her secret was out of the bag, that they knew she could do more than she'd done for them. Because Nash was right, too, that she could kick all their asses by now. She didn't need them like she had as a child of twelve. And nobody was going to hurt Lopez' girl, Lukas was dead, and the Reds didn't have anything else on her. And in a few weeks, she'd be gone.


	14. Little Beth: Enlistment

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Reference to Sex and Underage Drug Use. Language.**

* * *

Little Beth: Enlistment

Caitlin found Beth at 6 AM the morning after graduation, putting the last few things in her old duffel. She zipped it up and swung it over her shoulder. "You're going away, aren't you?" she asked quietly. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You know the home is for kids, Catey," Beth said. "I'm not a kid anymore. It's time for me to move on." She knelt down beside the kid, gave her one last hug.

"And they'll be after you if you stay. Stace's boyfriend and the others. Make you do bad things," Caitlin said. "Like they made Stace do, once. Like my daddy."

Beth stared. She'd had no idea the kid had picked up so much. "Stace is nothing like your daddy and never was," she said. "She never hurt the people she should love and protect. She's good. She and Meg'll look after you, I think, if you keep in touch. Make sure you're alright."

"But you won't."

"No, Caitlin, I won't," Beth said. And yeah, it hurt a little, to tell the kid how things were.

"I'll miss you," Caitlin said. The little girl swallowed, and when she opened her mouth again Beth saw blood where she'd bit her tongue to keep from crying, like a big girl. She held out her floppy stuffed bunny. "Here," she said, thrusting it roughly into Beth's arms. Then she ran.

Beth bit her own tongue, then she nodded, stuffed the plushie into the top of her bag, and left the room. But on the bed she left a datapad novel. Caitlin's favorite. She'd checked it out ages ago and read it to Caitlin, and the kid had asked for it so many times since that Beth had eventually just pinched it from the library, reported it lost and paid the small fee. She activated it and looked at the cover page. It was an old novelization of the classic vid Star Wars. Beth grinned through the lump in her throat. How different things were from the way humans had imagined it two hundred years ago. She was about to go see for herself how things really were, but she'd leave this for her little accidental roommate.

The Hardins, Theo, and Janey weren't up yet. Beth left a note on the fridge for them.

_Jeff and Casey—thanks. And thanks for not asking when I'd be moving and you could file for another kid. I appreciated it. Hope things work out for you two. _

_ Theo—thanks for coming to graduation. Meant something that someone did. Left some music in your inbox. Enjoy. _

_ Janey—left you a box of condoms in your closet. A big one. Seriously, stop screwing around. The drugs are messing up your life enough._

_ Love,_

_ Beth_

Beth left the Hardins for the last time and locked the door behind her. She put her key in the mailbox. Wearing her duffel across her body to discourage theft, she walked the couple blocks down to the bus station. The bus that would take her downtown toward Third and Elm was just pulling in. Pulling out a few credits from the neat little roll composed of her share of all the take the Reds had come into for the last eighteen months, Beth paid her fare, and took a seat.

Her omnitool vibrated around her wrist, and Beth looked down to see she'd received a message. She pulled it up. _Know you're outta here, Shepard. Tear it up for us, yeah? Kick some ass. Love from Stace, Meg, and Hope. _

Beth texted back. _Will you be alright?_

_ You know it, _came the answer. _Always._

_ We were the best, Stace, _Beth sent back._ You take care. Goodbye._

Then, just because, Beth dug in her duffel. At the very bottom, she found it, a crumpled, faded napkin, with a string of digits on it. She didn't know why the hell she'd kept it all this time, but now she punched in the address on her omnitool and left a message there, too.

_ I wasn't what you wanted me to be, _she typed. _I couldn't be, and survive. But I'll try to be in the future. I promise. Beth Shepard, headed for the stars. _

She got off on First and took Elm two blocks down to Third. The clock outside the yoghurt shop and Beth's omnitool said seven AM. The lights in the recruitment center went on, and a tall, clean cut man in a blue uniform walked up from the back and unlocked the door, just opening for the day.

Beth clutched her duffel to her, took a breath, marched up the sidewalk, and swung the door wide open. The recruitment officer hadn't even made it back to his desk yet. He turned, surprised.

Beth stuck her hand out to shake. "Beth Shepard," she said. "Where do I sign up?"


	15. Soldier: Professional Development

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Language**

* * *

Soldier: Professional Development

The new Lieutenant was pissing Shepard off. At twenty-two years old, she'd done damn well for herself in the four years she'd been in the Alliance. A shiny new Operations Chief stripe on her uniform, and she hadn't bought the rank like a lot of the sissy family military career men on board the cruiser _Compass_, which hosted five units ready to deploy on mission at any time. She'd earned her stripes with blood, sweat, and tears. She got things done, whatever the things might be.

But apparently she wasn't good enough for Lieutenant Sean freaking Ashton. Upon observing her at the shooting range in dock at an Alliance space station, he'd said, "How the hell did they promote you past Gunnery Chief, Shepard? Do you ever use anything other than a pistol? Do you even know how?"

Beth had shot three perfect round with that pistol, stationary and moving targets. "It works for me," she'd said.

Ashton had been unimpressed. "Yeah? And what if it's a krogan charging at you, and that cute little thing can't pierce his plates? What if you need to take out a turret at a hundred and fifty meters before it guns down the entire squad? Shepard, every dock for the next three months I want to see you here, and you don't go ground side with the unit until you shoot that well with at least one other weapon. Got it?" He pointed at the targets for emphasis.

Beth had wanted to cuss him out, wanted to tell him he couldn't do that to their unit, couldn't deprive them of an officer on mission. But he was the superior officer. Military wasn't like the streets, she'd found. Insubordination was okay in the Reds, if you had the muscle or the argument to back it up. In the Alliance, they called that mutiny, and any offense could be punishable with a shitload of extra duties at the very least, if the CO said so. Ashton didn't strike her as the understanding sort. So instead of cussing him out, she'd said, "Yes, sir."

The real kick in the ass, of course, was that he was totally right, Beth thought three weeks later as she knelt at the bar at the shooting range again, sniper rifle aimed at the target. She had been coasting. She'd been so good with a pistol already when she'd joined she'd tested out of basic marksmanship, and she'd just never bothered learning the other weapons they taught there. It was a weakness on the field, and it could be a liability. Every man on the team had to be prepared for anything. She knew that, but she wasn't.

She took a deep breath, peered through the scope, and fired. Beside her, someone activated the pulley, and the target came rushing up. Beth looked at it. Perfect headshot.

"That's more like it," Ashton said from over her shoulder. "Can you hit a moving target that clean, Chief?"

"Don't know," Beth said. "That's the first time I've hit a stationary that clean, and I've been practicing here for hours every time we've been in dock, just like you said."

"We've only been in dock twice before now," Ashton observed.

Beth raised an eyebrow at him, and didn't say anything.

Ashton smiled slightly. "You try any others?" he asked then.

"Yes, sir. I don't like shotguns, though. I'm alright with an assault rifle, but this…this just feels better. And you did say one, sir."

Ashton hummed. Pressing the controls again, he set the range to move a target back and forth at a hundred and ten meters, at the speed of a sprinter moving from cover to cover. Beth waited, catching the speed, until the target had moved once, twice, three times. Then she brought up the rifle, aimed, and fired.

Ashton brought the target up again. Beth hadn't scored a perfect headshot this time. But she hadn't missed, either.

"Keep working at it, Chief," Ashton said. "I want you making headshots like the stationary one every single time on every setting."

"One hundred percent accuracy? Sir, command doesn't ask that. They pass us out of even the advanced courses at eighty-five!"

"Your command asks it," Ashton said. "And only because you can do it, Shepard."

At this, Beth was silent. She smiled slightly. "Yes, sir," she said at last. "Can I…permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"May I at least go planetside next mission with the unit? I'm going out of my mind onboard ship while you're down there, sir."

"Think we can do that, Chief. Bring a rifle. But for now, I think you've practiced enough. Come on. You should eat something." He shut down Beth's lane. Beth put the rifle with the other practice guns, and followed the lieutenant, as she was obviously supposed to do.

For a moment, they walked in silence. Beth wasn't nearly as pissed as he had been, but she really didn't know what to say to her CO, either. If he'd been a grizzled vet it would've been one thing, she thought, but Ashton was just one rung above her on the ladder. Her superior, yes, but only just, and not much older than she was. Stace's age, rather good looking, and if he was a hardass, he was a more well-intentioned hardass than she'd thought at first, not a guy that just wanted to throw his weight around, but one that genuinely wanted her to be the best she could be. She didn't know the guy. She'd only just been assigned to the unit.

The silence stretched out, and Beth, feeling the awkwardness, was about to make an excuse and leave, when he broke it first. "So. Sniper rifle. Why do you like that one, Chief?"

Beth hesitated.

"Permission to speak freely, Shepard," he said, catching her reluctance. "This is spaceside leave. Downtime. Talk to me. Not an order, a request."

Beth relaxed a little. "I just...the shotgun's so aggressive, sir. With a shotgun, I'm in the enemy's face and I'm going to kill them. I don't…I don't like it. The assault rifle's better, but only a little. With the sniper, I can take my time. Maybe I take the shot, maybe I don't. Maybe it doesn't need to be taken. The gun needs patience, accuracy more than aggression. A cool head. And thinking about it, a sniper works best where people can't see him. That's always…that's always been the way I work best, too."

"They say you can tell a lot about a soldier by their gun," Ashton remarked. "Snipers are cold. You're right that the shotgun's a more aggressive weapon, but snipers always see the enemy's face in detail."

"Right before they blow it straight to hell," Beth murmured.

"You don't like killing," Ashton observed. "I've noticed before."

"I follow orders, sir. I do what I have to. But I didn't join the Alliance to shoot people. When the Alliance does their job, no one has to get shot."

Ashton looked appraisingly at her. "You're right about that, Shepard. So why did you join the Alliance, if it wasn't your lust for violence?"

"Lust for adventure," Beth said simply. "Brave new worlds, charting new courses. The galaxy's just opening up to humans. I like to be where the action is."

"Smart, with just a bit of an ego. Also characteristics of snipers," Ashton said. The last words hit a teasing cadence, and Beth relaxed completely.

"Hey, now."

"Why just the pistol, before?"

"It's what I learned first, sir," Beth shrugged. "Back on Earth."

"Police academy before you went military?" he guessed.

"No," Beth said flatly. Ashton took one look at her face, and backed off.

"Ah, it seems I've stepped into a minefield. Fair enough. Your past is your business, Chief."

Beth nodded curtly, then sighed. He didn't mean any harm by it. "What about you, sir?" she offered, trying to keep the conversation going. "You use an assault rifle in the field. Is that your preferred weapon?"

"It's got some nice range on it," he agreed. "Not as accurate as a pistol or a sniper rifle, but you use one right and it can cause a hell of a lot of damage."

"Even to a charging krogan, sir?" Beth asked.

Ashton laughed a little. "You better hope we never actually see one of those, Chief. Not pretty. When it's a charging krogan, honestly? You don't just need a really big gun, you also need a lot of luck."

They arrived at the double doors to the mess. Ashton started to hold the door for her, but Beth shot him a scornful look and just opened the other herself.

"Whoa. Guess I better get out of your way, Shepard."

"It's the smart thing to do," Beth agreed, laughing a little at herself. "Sorry. I just…I make my own way. Always have."

Ashton joined her in the food line. Both of them grabbed trays. "I know," he said. "It's something I've noticed. I actually wanted to talk to you about that."

He waited until they'd both been served and were seated at a table before speaking again.

Beth spooned some soup into her mouth, and looked expectantly at him. "Well, sir? Shoot."

"You're good, Shepard," Ashton said. "Almost as good as you think you are. You've got heart a lot of the others don't. But you won't get much further in your career unless you learn to work with others." He was dead serious. Beth was insulted.

"Sir, I follow orders. I do my duty."

"Yes, you do," he agreed. "But you're moving into command now, Chief. It's not just about following orders anymore. You're responsible for the lives and actions of the men under you. You can't just think of your part, you have to think of everyone's part. The good of the unit, not just you."

Ashton paused, took a couple bites, looked at her to see if she was getting it.

"Shepard, I've seen you. No one does their job better or more thoroughly than you. You're smart, you're capable, and when you need to learn something, you learn it fast. But you don't work well with others. You don't know the unit, you don't trust the unit, and that means they don't trust you. And if they don't know you, don't trust you, how are you going to command them in the field? How are you even going to know what commands you should give? Something's got to change."

Beth considered, and once again, Ashton was completely right. Every time she walked into the room, the unit fell silent. Before now, she'd been a glorified relay for someone else's instructions on the field. As an Operations Chief, she was in charge of making sure missions went smoothly, which meant making decisions about how they would run and providing assistance to the CO. With machines, computers, all the parts and processes had to be in place and functioning well, or they wouldn't work right. With a unit, it was the same, except Beth hadn't gotten to know the components that made up the unit. She didn't know where they'd go best, or how they ought to function.

"Understood, sir," Beth said quietly. "Thank you, sir."

"It's my job to help you be the best you can be," Ashton said. "And you're part of my unit."

"Well, sir," Beth said, extending her hand. "I'm Beth Shepard, Operations Chief of the 179. My background's small-group street ops, with a defensive tech and mechanical specialty. I'm trained in hand-to-hand combat, single opponent or against a group, a hell of a shot with a pistol, and I'm working on learning the sniper rifle. You tell me where and how to go, I go."

Ashton, amused, shook her hand. His brown eyes flitted over to a nearby group of the men, eating nearby. "Chief?" he said.

"Lieutenant?"

"Go."


	16. Soldier: Tactician

**Disclaimer: All original material in this chapter is of course disclaimed because I set it in Bioware's universe, and here is where I give credit to them for the creation of Toombs, who appears in ME1.**

**Section Warnings: Language and some innocent flirting and innuendo. Some ShepardxAshton (OMC)**

* * *

Soldier: Tactician

"Checkmate."

Beth checked the board, but no, Ashton was right. There was no way out of it. "Dammit!" She laughed. "Got me again! What is that, 17-2? God, I'm never going to get this game. At least it's good for _your_ ego."

Servicewoman Bonnie Evans, nearby in a chair watching the game, laughed, too. "Aw, don't sweat it, Chief. You're getting better! Really!"

"Yeah. In a couple months you might actually be able to outplay my blind old nana," Serviceman Ned Granger cracked.

"Watch it, Private," Beth growled. "Your nana might be able to beat me at chess, but I can still kick your pretty boy ass from here to kingdom come!"

Ned Granger's hazel eyes widened. They were the subject of many other units' little privates' rhapsodies, if scuttlebutt was to be believed, though he kept things professional within the 179. He looked at Ashton imploringly. "Lieutenant, you heard her, didn't you? That's hardly the way to foster unit cohesion, death threats against the men, is it?"

Ashton stood, grinning, and clapped the private on the back. "You're on your own, Granger. The Chief could probably kick _my_ ass, too, and you were the damn fool that provoked her."

Granger held up his hands. "Mercy, mercy, ma'am," he begged comically. "I'm sure you'd eat my nana's lunch!"

Beth folded her arms, playing the hardass. "That's more like it."

"You're too reactionary," Chance Wright spoke up from across the room, looking up from his datapad and out through his old-fashioned glasses that Beth was convinced he wore purely in protest of contact regulation during downtime. "Ma'am," he added, as an afterthought. "Chess is a strategist's game. You move on every move, but you have to anticipate Ashton if you want to win. Anticipate the Lieutenant, I mean." Blushing, he went right back to his book.

Wright was fresh from basic, wet behind the ears and a little off the beaten path, but the kid was a freaking genius with drones and traps. Beth had learned some things from him on the last mission, and that didn't happen often, with tech.

Granger looked at Beth expectantly, grinning as he waited for her to explode all over Wright, too, but Beth looked at Ashton. His expression was unreadable, but Beth knew exactly what he was thinking. It was the first time Wright had said anything to any of them in downtime. Kid was scared stiff of the rest of the unit, all of them with at least two years' experience on him. So she stood, and crossed the station lounge to sit across from him. Behind her, she heard Ashton leaving, and Evans challenging Granger to a card game.

"A strategist's game, huh? You know much about chess, Wright?" Beth asked him.

Wright looked up with a little smile. "I used to play back in school," he said. "My ROTC officer taught me. Said it sharpened the mind."

"Got any tips for your Chief, Private?" Beth asked. "Lieutenant Ashton keeps kicking my ass."

"Guess he's trying to sharpen _your_ mind, Shep—ma'am, I mean."

"Shepard's fine, here," Beth told him. "This is the lounge. Downtime. Having trouble remembering addresses?"

"I'm from a small colony," Wright explained. "Everybody knew everybody else. Nobody really bothered with the formalities. They kicked my ass in basic about it. Ran so many laps and did so many pushups for slips I thought all my limbs would fall off."

"No fear of that here. Neither the Lieutenant nor I are _real_ sticklers for protocol. Toombs'll give you a hard time. Just got that shiny new Corporal's insignia. Loves sticking it in everybody's face. But he can't really do anything to you. But I'd probably practice, just in case. For inspections and such. So. Which little colony are you from, Wright?"

"Tiptree, ma'am," Wright told her. "Joined the Alliance as soon as I could. Wanted to get the hell out of there. See the stars."

"That's something we have in common, then," Beth told him. "That's the same reason I joined. But you kind of miss it now, don't you?"

"I miss my family," he said. He blushed again. "That's not something we're supposed to say, is it? Supposed to be tough soldier types. But I do. My parents. My sister and brother-in-law. My niece."

Beth felt that familiar rush of envy and longing that always pulled at her when others told her about the people they had back home. Parents, siblings, lovers. All the people she'd never had. But at the same time she kind of loved the kid for being so open, loved his family for being decent human beings that he could miss.

"It can be hard at first," she said. "When I first joined, I missed my best friend from back home and her family a lot. But it's a good thing we're doing, Private. You learn the job, meet new people. Move on. Speaking of which." She tapped Wright's tablet. "What do you say you save that for later and show me some of those chess tips, huh?"

Wright smiled again. "Yeah, okay."

Ashton found her in the mess the next day and sat across from her. "That was an impressive use of tactics in the lounge the other day. Maybe a little too good. I think our littlest private has a crush on you now."

He glanced over at a nearby table, and Beth followed his gaze to where Chance Wright was sitting, together with a couple other people in the unit for the first time since he'd been assigned. He saw Beth looking, and waved cheerily. Indeed, the expression on his face was one of undisguised adoration. Beth tipped a wary wave back, and looked away.

She grimaced at Ashton. "Crap. I just meant to make him feel a little more at home here."

Ashton grinned. "Relax. He's just a little puppy missing his mama. The others will follow your example and welcome him in, he'll adjust, and get over it. No big deal. I remember I had a crush on my Gunnery Chief, back in the day. Tall, fit, hair like midnight, eyes like stars. A goddess in a jumpsuit with a big freaking gun," he chuckled. "Or so I thought. Actually, she was just a hell of a lot more approachable than my hardass bastard of a CO. I missed my mama, too. It's normal, Shepard, and it never goes anywhere."

Beth forced a smile. "Well, that's a relief. Thought I was going to have to break the poor kid's heart," she said lightly, as her own heart settled somewhere in the vicinity of her boots, feeling like it had just been kicked across the room and stomped on. Stupid, she'd been _stupid_. Of course it was nothing, between her and Ashton. Just another little lost puppy crushing on the first superior officer to give a damn and make her feel like she was worth something. The gun practice, the meals, the chess, asking her opinion in the field, was all professional. Making her the best officer she could be. It didn't _mean_ anything, and even if it did, it couldn't _go_ anywhere. Ashton _wasn't_ a stickler for protocol, but everyone knew the regs about in-unit fraternization existed for _many_ damn good reasons.

"Oh, you will," Ashton said. "But hearts are resilient at eighteen. He'll recover, and you'll just be a sweet, stupid little story to tell _his_ subordinate when she goes and makes some other cute little private fall in love with _her_."

"I didn't _make_ Wright do anything, just like your Gunnery Chief didn't do anything when it was you," Beth protested. "He just _did_. Little puppy missing his mama, like you said. He'd've fallen in love with _you_, if you'd stepped to him first."

"Maybe that's why I didn't," Ashton teased. "But maybe not. You do look damn sexy with a rifle, Shepard. And when you bristle up when you think someone's insulted you. Just…like…that."

He pointed at Beth's expression in triumph and took a bite. He made eating peas look smug.

"_You_ just have a gun fetish, Ashton," Beth retorted, feeling hollow inside for all she kept up the banter. "I should've known it from the beginning, what with the range and all. And now you tell me about your Gunnery Chief and her big freaking gun?" She clicked her tongue. "_Pervert_. That's all I'm saying."

"Sexy's sexy, Chief," Ashton said, unperturbed. "And a big freaking gun is _sexy_."

Beth considered this. "Yeah, kind of," she admitted reluctantly. She blushed immediately as Ashton grinned. "Do _not_ take that where your head just went!" she snapped.

"_You_ stepped into it."

"Be that as it may."

"I'm glad you talked to him," Ashton said then, seriously. "I was a little worried about Wright. He's a damn good combat engineer and we need him, but if he didn't settle in soon I was going to have to transfer him. All his skill would be useless if he couldn't work with the unit."

"He's a little weird, but he's a good kid. I don't know why anyone would have a problem with him," Beth said.

"Don't think they will. Well, Toombs might, but Toombs is full of shit, anyway. But someone had to break the ice. When command does, it's a good example for the unit."

"Unless everyone hates the officer," Beth pointed out.

"Hard to hate someone who keeps losing at chess in front of everyone in the lounge and taking shit for it," Ashton said, raising an eyebrow at Beth.

Beth looked at him. "You know?" she asked, lowering her voice.

He laughed at her. "Chief, if you didn't want me to catch on you were throwing the games, you might've made your two wins the only times it was just us in there a little less like resounding victories."

Beth smiled ruefully. "Okay, that was a bit of an amateur move," she confessed.

"You don't need to fake it," Ashton told her, finishing his meal. "You've improved enough and been with us long enough. You know them and they trust you in the field. They're all damn proud of you. Should've heard Toombs talking up the Belt mission to a couple of guys in the 109th last week. He practically recited an epic in your honor."

"Yeah, well, Toombs is full of shit," Beth said, standing.

Ashton stood, too. "Take the praise, soldier," he said gently. "You've earned it. And stop pretending to be less than you are. That's an order."

Despite the fact that she could actually play chess, Beth was a tactician, not a strategist. Her specialty was reacting to problems in the moment and doing what needed to be done. But looking into Ashton's warm, open face, with her stomach doing sad little flips and her bruised heart in the toes of her boots, Beth just didn't know how to react to _this_ problem. She had no plan of attack, and no defense. "Yes, sir," she said.


	17. Soldier: Against Regulation

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: ShepardxAshton (OMC). Language, Frank discussion of sex (or lack thereof), implied off-page sex between two consenting adults, but against military regulation.**

* * *

Soldier: Against Regulations

It was nearing 2000 hours, _Compass _time, when Beth got the ping asking her to Ashton's quarters. It wasn't their usual conference hours, and she couldn't think of any official business they might have together. So she was puzzled when she left her little console on the bridge, and instead of heading to the 179's crew barracks, she headed to Ashton's cramped room in the officers' hall. She passed the captain and XO quarters, and those of the other four units' lieutenants, and knocked on the door that said _2__nd__ Lt. S. Ashton, 179. _

"Come in, Shepard," came Ashton's muffled voice, and the access port blinked green. Beth opened the door and descended the ladder down to the room that served as Ashton's office and sleeping quarters aboard the _Compass_.

His desk was messy as usual, piled high with datapads and official reports he either had to read or submit to someone else. But Ashton was like Beth hadn't ever seen him before. He was pacing again and again in the very small space between his desk and his bunk. His short, sandy hair stood on end, like he'd run his fingers through it in frustration several times.

"It's no good, Shepard," he said abruptly, without looking at her. "I can't take it anymore, and there are regs. I've looked at it forwards, backwards, and sideways, and I can't see any way around it. I'm putting in a transfer request for you tomorrow morning."

Beth was floored. It was like the galaxy had turned horribly, terrifyingly upside-down in a nanosecond, and she had no idea what had happened. "Sir…Ashton…I'm sorry, I don't understand. Have I done something? I thought we had a good thing going here. We work well together. Back at Elysium, sir, I don't think it's an exaggeration to say both of us helped Captain Wendell save the ship and everyone aboard her. Neither of us could've done it alone."

"No, of course not. I think the captain's sent in commendations for both of us to the brass, actually. Wouldn't surprise me if they promoted you out of the unit soon, anyway. And yes, we've done well together, Shepard. That's not the problem. It's not you, it's me…damn it, I promised myself I wouldn't say anything stupid like that..." Ashton turned to her, eyes half-wild, arms stretched out.

"Then damn it, Ashton, what's the issue?" Beth demanded. "Spit it out!"

"We work _too_ well together, that's what," Ashton snapped. "Been coming on for a while, Shepard, and I've tried to quash it, but I can't. If things keep on as they are, I'm going to do something stupid we'll both regret."

Beth blinked. She sat down, hard, in the brown visitors' chair. "What?" she said, very quietly. Time seemed to crystallize as she waited for his answer. The air seemed to hum.

"I like you, Shepard. A little too damn much," Ashton said plainly.

Beth tried to find her words, but all that came out was a breathy, "Really?" Beth immediately despised herself.

Ashton was too distressed to pick up on the tone that gave everything away. "Yes. I'm sorry. I said I tried to stop. But you're too damn close, and I can't—"

"Why did you try to stop?" Beth interrupted.

_Now_ he looked at her. "What?" he said, in his turn.

"Why'd you try to stop?" Beth asked again, more strongly this time. "I don't mind. Hell, I…I…at any rate, sending me away would be stupid. There hasn't been anything inappropriate, Lieutenant," she said, returning to safe ground as she recovered herself. "You haven't done anything wrong."

Ashton stared at her. "Not yet," he said slowly. "But Shepard, you should see the inside of my head. Well, no. You really shouldn't. You'd probably hang me by my toes out the airlock." But he ended the last sentence like a question, as if wondering if she _would_. She'd said enough that now he wondered.

"No," Beth answered the unspoken question. "I wouldn't. Damn it, I'm no good at this," she swore. "Ashton, I don't…I _really_ don't mind. I mean, yeah, there are regs, but if I'd _known_…what I mean to say is…" She gave up. "I haven't known anyone like you," she confessed quietly. "Don't, just _don't_ transfer me. Not for _that_."

Ashton fell into his own chair. "Shepard," he said, slowly. "Are you saying what I think you're saying? 'Cause I'm serious. I want you, and that's bad. We can't…I can't—"

Beth was suddenly annoyed. "And why the hell not?" she demanded. "Tell me that. Why the hell not? You've managed to keep it under wraps that you want into my pants this long—"

Ashton winced. "Don't put it like that," he said, but Beth ran right over him.

"—and apparently I have, too, or you would've known I've liked you for a couple of years now. I'd say odds are we can probably keep it professional. So _why the hell not_? Screw the regs. Or don't, but just don't be an idiot and send me packing and screw up a good thing when, _either way_, we'll be just fine. If you want me, I am _right_ here, Ashton. If not, we'll just pretend this little conversation never happened, and I'll see you tomorrow at the usual time."

Beth stared him down, daring him. He stared back, dazed, looking for all the world like she'd clubbed him over the head with a two by four. Tough, Beth thought. That's how she felt, and also like he was dangling her off the edge of a cliff. She was elated he was into her, terrified he'd make her leave, and just plain pissed all at once. He could deal with a little shock and his sudden attack of the protocol fever.

"Christ, you're young," he muttered finally.

"You're not _that_ much older than me," Beth shot back, stung.

"Not what I meant, Shepard."

"You mean I don't know what I'm doing because I haven't found anyone _worth_ doing before."

Ashton winced again. "No, let's say it," Beth said. "It's true enough. By some miracle of God, I have retained my virginity through eighteen years in the slums of Vancouver and six years of military service, and now I wish to give it to you, Lieutenant Sean Ashton."

"Your CO," Ashton said grimly.

Beth rose and walked around the desk. Ignoring the datapads, she sat on top of it, facing Ashton. "No," she said, quietly. "Just to _you_. My friend. Possibly the best man I've ever known. Except you're being stupid right now. Sean," she said hesitantly, reaching a tentative hand toward his face. "It'll be fine."

Ashton swore softly, covering her hand with his own, pressing it to his face. "Now I _could_ transfer you for inappropriate overtures."

"Are you going to?" Beth asked, half-dreading the answer.

"No," he said. In one smooth movement, he pulled her off the desk, into his lap, and into a kiss.

Beth hadn't been lying. She didn't have any experience, but Ashton certainly seemed to be enjoying himself anyway, and kissing him was better than she'd ever thought. All too soon it was over, though. "It's not just sex, though, Shepard. You have to understand that," he said, squeezing her shoulders for emphasis. "It's _you, _with your brilliance and your bravery and the way you throw yourself headfirst into every mission, rise to every single challenge like it's _nothing_, care so much even when you never say. I want _that_. I want _you_."

"You got me, Ashton," Beth whispered. "Body and soul."

She loved the way Ashton's arms tightened around her when she said that, but more, she loved the way his eyes lit up like she'd just handed him a star as he pulled her down into another kiss.


	18. Soldier: Akuze

**Disclaimer: This is canonical backstory for the Sole Survivor profile from Bioware's Mass Effect. Details added by this fanfiction writer are here humbly disclaimed.**

**Section Warnings: Implied off-page sex. Language. Graphic violence.**

* * *

Soldier: Akuze

It wasn't because she was such a great soldier that Beth Shepard survived Akuze. It wasn't luck. She'd been awake because she'd been breaking regulation, just like she had been for the past eight months, and on mission, because she'd got the word that it was to be her last run with the 179. Ashton's promotion to first lieutenant hadn't changed much, but the promotion Captain Wendell had promised her was finally coming, and with her commission as second lieutenant came her own command, on another cruiser with another unit. She'd been scheduled to ship out in a week, when the Compass returned to station.

She'd found out the day before the mission. She'd had to employ the old tricks to keep from breaking after her meeting with Wendell, until late that night when she could safely sneak into Ashton's quarters. Not that she wasn't happy about the promotion. She was thrilled about the promotion. But she knew what it meant for them.

* * *

_"It's over, isn't it? There's no guarantee the Irene'll berth and fuel here again. In fact, I think she's generally stationed halfway across the galaxy. Even with the mass relays, that's a lot of territory for the Alliance. We might never see each other again," she'd said. _

_ Sean had held her, and stroked her hair, but he hadn't been able to lie. "We could try," he managed weakly. "Holocalls, emails. We could coordinate our shore leave. Wouldn't even be breaking regs anymore."_

_ She'd laughed wetly. "How often do you call home, Sean? I haven't talked to Stace in years. Both of us are too focused on the job. The only reason this works is because we work so closely together."_

_ He'd smiled sadly then, shaken his head. "I won't ask you to stay," he warned._

_ "I won't decline the job," Beth had retorted. "It's a great opportunity."_

_ "Think I don't know that? I've been pushing this for you for months. I don't know why the hell it took brass so long. You'll outrank me in two years, Beth. Kick all our asses."_

_ "Damn right I will."_

_ "I love you," Sean confessed, as to a crime. _

_ Beth had sighed, touched his face, turned her mouth up to his. As he kissed her, she'd smiled against his lips and left her tears on his cheek. "I know. I love you, too. But you or me, it's not enough."_

_ If he'd denied it she would have despised him, but he didn't, and she loved him all the more for it. "I'm sorry," he said. _

_ "So am I."_

_ Sean'd just held her, touching every part of her, running his eyes over her again and again and again, memorizing her to keep in his mind, and take out from time to time, when she was gone. She knew that was what Sean was doing, because she was doing the same. _

_ "As often as I can, before," she'd promised. "I'll be with you."_

* * *

So even though Beth'd never compromised a mission before, never brought her relationship with Sean into the field, she'd done it that night, because the relationship was ending. She'd lain awake in the tent she shared with several other women in the unit, waiting until the stories and the speculation had stopped and every woman's breathing had deepened. Then, fully dressed, she'd slipped out of the cot and out of the tent, towards Sean's command tent.

She'd wanted all the more to see him that night because it was so damn creepy at Akuze. The streets empty, the houses unlocked, and abandoned. It was like freaking Roanoke, or something. Looking back on it later, Beth cursed herself a thousand times for not posting a watch. Sean had said it was unnecessary. There had been no signs of violence. They'd determined to camp and search for more evidence as to what had happened to the colony in the morning. Beth, weary from a day's fruitless recon anyway, had not insisted. It'd been a bad job from the start, she thought later. If she'd done what she should, other people might have survived. If she'd done what she should, she might have died. But she should have known. She should have been ready.

Just a five second tremor: that was all the warning she'd had. Then the first thresher maw had erupted from the silent earth right in the middle of one of the men's tents. They weren't called that then, of course. The Alliance had had no word for the things, hadn't known about them or heard of them from the krogan yet. Not until after that night. A bunch of scientists with datapads and sick, eager, shining eyes had made Beth describe the monsters later to a sketch artist, asked her exactly what she'd seen, what the things had done and how they'd done it. She'd given them what they wanted. It wasn't like she'd ever be able to forget.

The mouth was the first thing she'd seen. The giant, slavering, working mouth, erupting one, two, five meters into the air, roaring and spewing acid. The wicked mandible, three meters wide and dripping with that acid, and dozens of smaller, waving legs at each segment of the massive, armored body. Smaller. Each leg was the approximate size and sharpness of a harpoon.

The first one had torn through the military issue tent like tissue paper. The first screams had rent the night, horrible, despairing screams of brave, seasoned men looking straight into the jaws of a nightmare, into the gates of hell, dying like beasts. The second had tunneled up between the camp and the vehicles, the heavy artillery. Then there was a third, and a fourth, and Beth was screaming into the radio she'd had fixed to her pants, diving into a tent and grabbing the first gun her fingers touched.

"This is Shepard! Five o' clock, five o' clock! To me! To me! The camp is under attack! The camp is under attack! Grab a weapon, form a formation! We'll skirt nine to the heavy artille—"

Beth dived to her left as one, arcing back underground, sprang up again not two meters from her. She fired blindly, only to find her bullets repaired by the thing's natural armor. "This is Shepard! This is Shepard!" Her left finger cracked on the radio button, and the ragged, high voice she yelled in was unrecognizable as her own. "Seven o' clock! On my six! Retreat! Retreat!" She pressed the button on the radio to call the shuttle. "Templeton! Shepard! Get your ass here! Now! We need air support, air lift, anything! Get us out!"

Beth jumped as the ground beneath her rumbled, rolled, came up firing back behind her. Someone else had got a gun, now, and a flare went up red in the night. Beth could see the monster dark and huge in front of it, and in its jaws, Bonnie Evans. Cheerful, dimpled Bonnie, that had baked cookies for all fifty men in the unit last leave, just because. The jaws shut on her, and she snapped like a twig. Beth heard her bones crunch.

"Evans!"

That'd been Orwell. The camp was up now, running around in every direction, trying to escape the monsters. "Forget her!" Beth had shouted. "Orwell! To me! On my four and watch the six!" And into the radio again. "Templeton! Templeton! Come the hell in!"

The radio had finally crackled to life. "Chief? What the hell is going on?"

"Templeton! Giant things are attacking the—ahh!"

Beth had ducked and rolled to avoid a spray of acid. To the side, she saw it hit a serviceman square in the face. The viscous liquid attacked his face, ate away his skin in seconds, melted the muscle right down to the bone, then corroded the bone black, too. There was just time for an inhuman cry to tear from his throat, for him to clutch at the face that wasn't there anymore, before he fell like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and the thresher maw slid over the corpse towards Beth.

"Retreat! Orwell! To me!"

"Shepard?" Templeton had asked over the radio. Beth hadn't had time to answer him.

Firing another round with the pistol, Beth hit one multifaceted, bulging eye. Green blood had spurted out from the wound, spurting over her, hot and sticky, but so, so welcome, now she knew the things were vulnerable. The monster had shrieked, reared, dove underground. "Aim for the eyes!" Beth had called to Orwell. Beneath her, the ground had shaken again. Beth had sprinted away instinctively, zigzagging as she went.

"Chief!" Ned Granger had recognized her voice and rallied with Orwell behind her. "Orwell! What are these things? What's the plan?" He clutched a shotgun in his hands, not his usual weapon. It had the first thing he'd grabbed, too.

"Stay with me and don't get killed! Try to get to the artille—"

One of the worms had arced itself over the land vehicle. The heavy armor crunched like aluminum between its massive plates. A young man had had the same idea as Beth. He'd been by the wheel, trying to work the door open. He was too slow to escape being crushed to death with the vehicle. Beth recognized his scream. Chance Wright. He was nineteen years old.

Beth had fired another round as tears of fury and terror streamed from her eyes. She'd hit one leg at the joint, blown it off. Granger'd hit another. More green blood had spurted.

"Shepard! What's you're status? Come in!" Templeton had begun to sound a fraction as panicked as everyone down here.

"The camp is overrun, the vehicle's destroyed. We're dying down here," Beth had reported. Behind her, she'd seen the ground ripple. "Orwell, watch your…"

She'd leapt away from the giant mouth that erupted not a meter behind her. When she'd scrabbled to her feet and kept running, she'd found only Granger continued behind her.

"I'm on my way, Chief," Templeton had said over the radio. "Tracking your signal…"

"Negative! Negative! It's too hot! Land away from here. I'll save who I can and come to you. Otherwise these things'll crush the shuttle like a nutcracker."

"Affirmative. Sending you a rendezvous," Templeton had said. Beth's omnitool had beeped with the LZ point he'd mapped, four kilometers away.

Behind them, what had been the camp, but was now a hill of mulched earth stained red with human blood and still churning with the feasting monsters, was starting to fall silent. Gunfire came in less frequent bursts. The screams were dying, as the men were dying, and there were fewer to scream. Granger cried out as he stumbled over something.

"Chief!" he said then, sharply.

Beth pointed her gun lamp at his feet, and saw a dismembered arm, the hand skeletal and pitted from acid, but on the shoulder, a uniform's stripes were still visible. A lieutenant's stripes.

"Retreat," Beth had whispered, as one of the things, sensing live prey still near, had erupted from the earth. She'd fired instinctively, hit another eye. "Just run." On her omnitool, she'd quickly typed a signal, beaming the LZ coordinates to any other survivors.

They'd run. They'd run and run and run. A kilometer from the camp, the sounds of churning earth, gunfire, and screaming had ceased echoing across the plain entirely, and Beth's stomach had turned to cold stone. "Chief…" Granger had panted.

"I know!"

"No…Chief…"

Beth had turned, then, and in the gun's lamplight she'd seen blood, a lot of it, far, far, too much, leaking through a gaping rip in Granger's uniform.

Beth had gone for the pouch in her jumpsuit where she kept her medi-gel, only to realize she was in her fatigues. Her jumpsuit and all the medi-gel it contained was back at the camp, and Granger obviously didn't have any, either.

"Thing's mandible caught me," he'd grit out. "When Orwell…think it might have skewed something important." He laughed raggedly.

"No. No. We're not losing you, Granger," she'd said. "Templeton—the shuttle'll have first aid. We've got to make it. Come on. Come on!"

She'd slung her arm around his body and continued toward the landing zone. At first he'd been able to help. But he'd grown weaker and weaker, and by the time they'd reached the LZ, she'd been carrying him. She'd laid him down on the hillside, undisturbed here, knelt by him, pressed her hands into the wound, trying to stanch the flow. But he'd lost too much already.

Beth remembered she'd begged, pleaded. "No, no. Too many people have died today, Granger. Too damn many. You stay with me, Private. You stay with me, dammit! Please, please. Just a few minutes. There'll be medi-gel in the shuttle. We can get you to the ship and the med-bay for transfusions. You'll be fine. You'll be fine. Damn you, why didn't you dodge?"

"Tried," he'd laughed weakly. "Can't all have super-powers, Chief."

"You can. You do. Remember how you took off that thing's leg with me? And back on Uriel, when you, Evans, and Wright stole that glider right out from under the batarians' noses? Saved that man and his son. That was awesome! Come on, Granger, you can't…"

Granger had shaken his head, smile weary, bright, beautiful green eyes that had driven so many women and a few of the men on Stevenson Station at dock mad dimming. "Wright. Poor kid. Orwell…Chief, do you think…anyone else made it?"

"You stay with me and we'll both go see. We'll find them."

"Sorry about the lieutenant…sorry…Chief. Know you liked him. Good officer. Good man…Fletcher, from the 601. You gotta tell her. She was the only one…the only one that really mattered. Tell her. And my mom…back on Eden Prime. You gotta tell 'em, Chief…I…"

Beth remembered she'd gripped his shoulders so tightly he'd winced. "Tell them yourself, dammit! Don't you…Granger! Ned!"

"Could I…could I have some water?"

Beth had shaken her head, crying so hard her voice came out all broken and wobbly. "It's all back at camp, Ned. Everything's back at camp. Everyone…everyone…just…just a little longer, Ned. The shuttle'll be here soon. Ned? Ned!"

But his eyes had gone glassy and empty. Beth had shaken him, shouted at him, but he was gone.

Andy Templeton had landed the shuttle two minutes later and found Beth covered in green and red blood, clutching Ned Granger's corpse to her and shaking silently, staring back across the plain.

In the morning, they'd flown back over Akuze to search for survivors. The settlement was still standing, echoing with emptiness. But the place where the camp had been was a mulched mound of dirt, still wet and red with the blood of the marines that had died in the thresher maw attack. They found scraps of canvas from the tents, fragments of destroyed supplies, the crumpled land vehicle, crushed to a quarter of its size and beyond repair, and a few charred bits of bone the worms hadn't bothered to devour.

But there was not a single survivor from the attack.

No one.

Except Beth Shepard.


	19. Soldier: Protege

**Disclaimer: Anderson is not an OC, just in case you didn't know. Rights to Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Language.**

* * *

Soldier: Protégé

It'd been three months since Akuze. After that, of course they hadn't gone ahead and assigned Shepard to the _Irene. _They'd brought her back to Earth, after. Made her talk to the scientists, describe the creatures that had killed the 179 over and over again, in detail. The creatures had been dubbed "thresher maws" in Alliance Basic, but it had been discovered that the species was known to a number of the other alien races in the galaxy. They reproduced via spores that could be transported on spacecraft and survive in space for millennia until they found a world on which to live. They were usually found in low, flat, places. Akuze had been settled in such a place, but thresher maws, the asari said, were usually found on much more barren, hostile worlds, such as the krogan homeworld of Tuchanka, where they were particularly prevalent. The Special Ops branch of the Alliance, Shepard had been told, would be undertaking a thorough investigation into how and why so many of the usually solitary threshers had been found out of their habitat on the human colony world of Akuze.

Their promises didn't bring back the 179. Nothing did.

After she'd satisfied the scientists, the Alliance put her on leave to attend to the aftermath.

There was a memorial service, long and ornate with speakers that didn't know a damn thing about anybody in the unit going on and on about tragedy and unforeseen loss. Flowers, flags, an original composition by one of the best composers in the day, talk of a memorial, a 21 gun salute. And fifty empty coffins on the platform.

They'd given Shepard a freaking medal, like she'd done something heroic. Like she'd done more than luck out, because she'd been up about to do something she shouldn't. No one asked if there'd been a guard posted that night. No one asked why Shepard had been awake when the attack had come. They'd skipped the promotion to Second Lieutenant she'd been scheduled for and jumped her straight to Staff Lieutenant.

All the letters, all the calls about what had happened came to her. The accusatory ones from family members that asked her why she hadn't saved mama's baby boy or Gregson's wife. The imploring ones asking about last moments, like she knew. The polite ones asking her to speak at the private memorials. Shepard responded to all of these, however hollow it left her. The families and friends of the 179, the handful of people they'd known from the other _Compass_ units, one or two from Stevenson Station. Those were the only people in the galaxy who had the right to say _anything_ to Beth Shepard.

They were far from the only calls she got, though. Akuze had gotten the galaxy's attention. But the rest of the calls Shepard refused. The rest of the emails she deleted. The universe had blipped out for one moment, and she'd survived when everyone else had died. She'd done nothing to deserve the fame, the attention. It was all politics. The Alliance acknowledging the loss of a colony and a unit for good PR and a chance to tell the galaxy it'd never happen again. The rest of the galaxy looking on in delighted horror as the upstart humans'd finally tangled with something just a bit too big for them. There was one horrible, impersonal, official letter from the Citadel Council, offering condolences on the loss of the Akuze colony, the loss her unit had sustained, but congratulations upon her survival, as her species made its first contact with thresher maws in this completely unforeseen tragedy. The asari councilor claimed to know the pain she must be feeling. The salarian councilor commended her on the resourcefulness and will to survive she had displayed. The turian councilor expressed his assurance that as long as she survived, the memory of the 179 would live on. When Shepard read that one, she printed it out just so she could personally consign it to hell in flames. Their ignorance, their presumption burned like the thresher maw acid.

Eventually, the emails and calls slowed down, and the Alliance reclaimed Shepard from leave. Shepard got the idea that brass was kind of pissed that after the public memorial, she hadn't attended a single Alliance PR event or meeting she'd been invited to regarding Akuze. Instead, she'd used the time to see to the needs of the few that genuinely grieved the 179.

At any rate, when they called her back and she came back, they didn't assign her to another ship. Instead, she was plunked down into a desk job in Singapore, handling military biotic paperwork, like she knew shit about biotics, and remanded into mandatory posttraumatic psychotherapy.

It was slow torture. Flattening her ass on a hard, angled chair, pushing datapads, reading about biotic implants and lawsuits and complications and deciding which of these new dark-energy wielding freaks could be trusted in the military and which should be put under military surveillance or lockdown. Line after line about neurochemistry and the effect of eezo on the body and the brain, and the way tech harnessed it all, but not really, until Shepard's eyes burned and her brain buzzed, and the lines onscreen blurred together into so many black letters of gibberish. Then seventeen hundred hours, and leaving the tiny, bare little office only to go to another, where a white, eager little man with shining eyes and nervous fingers just like those of the scientists before him asked her to relive again and again what had happened at Akuze.

Shepard logged longer and longer hours at the range on the weekends.

Every so often, a man in an officer's uniform would come by there, or the shrink's office, or Shepard's office at work, and talk with another man in low, strained voices, looking guiltily over at her.

This was the first time one had asked to see her, though. Shepard walked into the offices the Alliance headquarters afforded visiting officers and found the guy staring out the window. The office was on the seventeenth floor, so he had quite a nice view of the city. He was in dress blues, decorated, with a captain's stripes. He didn't even bother closing the open datafile on the desk. Shepard saw her own picture.

_Severe psychological damage, _she made out. _Evidence of emotional disassociation, distancing. Coping badly. Subject under medication for nightmares and insomnia, and increased hostility, as demonstrated in worrying…_

Then the captain turned around, and Shepard saluted. "Sir."

The captain returned the address. "At ease, Lieutenant," he said in a warm, sure voice. He shook Shepard's hand, firmly, with conviction, but without aggression. "I'm Captain David Anderson. Take a seat. I wanted to talk to you."

Shepard, warily, took the seat across the desk from him. Anderson took the big chair, the CO's chair. He looked like he was about forty, but pretty in shape for all that. A field officer, Shepard decided, and one with calluses on his palm. He had a strong, square dark face, and his dark hair was shaved extremely close to his head.

"So. Staff Lieutenant Shepard, is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Born in Vancouver, enlisted at eighteen, fresh out of high school. Top of the class in basic training. A number of commendations for bravery, quick-thinking, and heroism there and in the six years since. Fought in the Skyllian Blitz. Captain Wendell of the _Compass _says you, together with your immediate superior, 2nd Lieutenant Sean Ashton, saved the ship and that wing of the air assault. We'd have lost a lot of fighters that day if the _Compass_ had gone down."

"Yes, sir."

"How are you holding up, Lieutenant?" he asked then. Shepard looked up. "What happened at Akuze was a nasty business, and the months since can't have been easy for you."

Shepard searched his face, but it was a genuinely sympathetic observation, soldier to soldier, from one CO that had lost soldiers in trust to another. She blinked, but answered. "I haven't shot anyone yet, sir. I'd say I'm doing pretty well."

Anderson barked a surprised laugh. "I'll bet. Your file, here," he tapped the datapad. "You look like a fighter. Must be going crazy, twiddling your thumbs down here."

"You got another idea for me, sir?" Shepard asked.

"I might have," Anderson said. He got down to business then. "It's a waste of a good officer, plunking you in a desk job, Lieutenant. But to tell you the truth, no one knows what to do with you. That you survived Akuze is a miracle. But witnessing an entire unit get wiped out like that, well, no captain in the fleet is quite prepared for what it may have done to you, how it might affect you in future combat. I'd like to give you a chance. I think you're even tougher than your file suggests. You pulled yourself up from nothing with hard work and grit, survived where no one else did. I like that."

"Sir," Shepard said. "Permission to speak freely?"

Anderson smiled. "You'll learn you don't have to stand on formalities with me, Shepard. I like to work together with my soldiers. That doesn't happen unless you feel we can talk. Go ahead."

"Thank you, sir. Listen. I'd love to fly again. I'm dying here. But let's get one thing straight right now. I'm no hero. I'm no super soldier. I survived at Akuze…it was just…I don't know what it was. If you think that's a reason to take me on…well, it's not," Shepard finished.

"Is it a reason to keep you here?" Anderson asked.

Shepard thought it was supposed to be rhetorical, but she answered seriously. "Possibly," she told him. "Brass may be right about me, Captain. I am not the soldier I was three months ago. I never will be again. Here's the truth: I'm not sure how I'll react in combat, either. I know I am wasted here. And I know that if you do take me on, I will do my damnedest for you every day."

Anderson seemed to take that for what it was. "I'm sure you will. After what you went through, getting back into the field is a risk. But I have a good feeling about this. Here's the deal: I've asked that you be transferred to my command. My request has been approved. Upon your acceptance, you will be admitted to the Special Forces branch of the Alliance, and assigned to my ship, The _Sojourner_. She's a frigate, smaller than you're used to. Our missions will be different as well. Some will be classified. I answer directly to Alliance command. You answer to me. You'll be XO. On a trial basis, for now. We'll see how things work out."

Executive Officer on a Special Forces frigate? It was similar to the role she'd played within the 179, but instead of a unit, she'd be overseeing day-to-day operations, the nuts and bolts of things, for an entire ship. And the operations she'd be overseeing…well, Shepard had just barely touched the N-division. The scientists she'd talked to immediately after Akuze had been operatives within Alliance Special Forces. She'd seen just enough, learned just enough, to know the shit she was likely to see with Anderson would be a huge step up from anything she'd ever seen before. The learning curve would be massive.

Shepard looked at Anderson. She knew from what he'd told her and from her own observation that she was considered a risky operative to have in a unit, psychologically damaged, an unknown quantity, after Akuze. That's why brass had stuck her here. That's why she was seeing the damn shrink. But this guy was willing to take the gamble. He thought she could hack it. And he might be her only chance to get out from behind the desk.

Shepard swallowed, smiled wryly. She jerked her head at the captain's lapel, at the small, white N7 insignia there. "I've never worked spec ops before. I'm a grunt, Captain. And I just lost my entire unit."

"Listen, Shepard," Anderson said. "Can you think of anything you could have done differently that might have saved them?"

"When Se—when the lieutenant didn't post a guard that night…I didn't press him, sir. The colony was dark, we didn't know what was going on. It looked quiet, but we should've known anything could happen. If someone had been able to sound the alarm—"

"Who was in command of the 179, Lieutenant?" Anderson asked, gently, but firmly.

Shepard looked down at the desk. "Lieutenant Ashton, sir."

"Right. It was his call. When the attack came, what did you do?"

"I did everything I could, sir," Shepard said, accepting for the first time that it was true. She _could_ have pushed Ashton for the guard, and he would have listened, but ultimately, it _had_ been his call, and when the attack had come, she'd done everything she could. She'd done everything right, fulfilled all of her responsibilities. It had just happened so fast. So fast.

The images spun in front of her eyes again, and Shepard closed them. The screams rang out in her ears, and she shook her head to dispel them. "I'm still not sure I'm what you want, sir," she said, very quietly. "But I know an opportunity when I see one. I'll never get another chance like this. Thank you. I'll join your crew." She shook David Anderson's hand once more, sealing the deal.

Anderson smiled. "You won't regret it, Shepard. There's a shuttle in port. Grab your gear, and be there at 0700 tomorrow. We fly at 1000."


	20. Soldier: Cold

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Adult, ultimately responsible use of alcohol (though Shepard does consider getting drunk). Off-page sexual encounter between two consenting adults (ShepardxOMC). Discussion of use of prescribed medication for symptoms associated with PTSD and overwork.**

* * *

Soldier: Cold

The ship was practically empty. Everyone was out on shore leave, exploring Fehl Prime's sights, but Shepard still sat at her desk going over reports and paperwork. Some of it she'd seen four times already. None of it was urgent.

Footsteps sounded in the doorway, then stopped. Shepard felt someone watching her. She knew who it'd be before she looked up. Anyone but Anderson would have moved on. She didn't fraternize with the crew outside of daily rounds, and that was purely duty, and everyone knew it.

"What do you need, Anderson?" Shepard asked him, looking again at a requisition order for an implant upgrade for Dovsky, and deciding to authorize it. They were headed to the edges of asari space next month. If they ran into any asari combatants, it'd be useful to have Dovsky in peak condition.

"What are you doing here, Shepard?" Anderson sighed. "There's nothing on that desk you can't handle tomorrow."

Shepard didn't pretend to misunderstand him as she signed the requisition order and added the cost to the financials on her right. "What are _you_ doing here, sir? You could be enjoying shore leave just as much as I could. Some reason _you're_ here, instead?"

"I noticed you didn't get off the ship," Anderson said. Shepard heard him sit down in the chair across from her. "Shepard." He didn't go on until she put down the dossier on the new engineer that'd be boarding tomorrow, and looked up at him at last.

"Anderson."

"You're the best damn XO in the fleet, but you need to take a break."

"I'm fine, sir."

"The hell you are. N7 in two years, using your leave for the courses?"

"If you hadn't wanted me to go for it, you wouldn't have nominated me, sir."

"I wanted you to go for it, not kill yourself. You don't have anything to prove, but you're running yourself into the ground. Do you do anything but work?"

Shepard shook her head. "I don't do it for you, sir. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. You've done a lot for me. I owe it to you. But I work because I like it."

"No, you don't," Anderson contradicted her. "If it were ambition, that'd be one thing, but it's not, and you and I both know it. You've pulled out the miracles so far, Shepard, but if you keep this up, you _will_ burn out, and I need you. So I'm calling it. Take the night off, Shepard. Enjoy your damn shore leave. Get some sleep. That's an order."

Shepard studied her captain's face, and saw he wouldn't give ground on this one. She nodded once. "Yes, sir," she said, stood, and left the office.

If it had been anyone else, she'd have fought it. But Anderson was her CO, and probably the closest thing to a friend Shepard had these days. She did owe him, but more, she respected him. If he said she needed time off, Shepard would listen. Didn't mean she'd like it.

It wasn't a complete lie, that she didn't do it for him, that she liked the work. And Anderson wasn't completely right, that it wasn't ambition. The _actual_ truth was that Shepard liked focusing on her career, and it helped that Anderson doing so much for her gave her more motivation than just working until the demons in her head were too exhausted to roar. Running ragged was better than running scared. But Anderson was right, too. She'd pulled off the miracles so far, but she was already on meds to help her stomach and more to help her sleep at night. She hadn't hit her limit yet, so she couldn't exactly say what it was, but Shepard was pretty sure it was coming up quick. And if she hit it while she was groundside with a team for Anderson, or on a classified mission for Alliance command, when there were lives depending on her decisions, well, then it really would be her fault if her people paid the price.

Shepard grabbed her pistol from the armory before she left the ship, and when she'd left, she ran a search for the nearest range on her omnitool.

Anderson had probably meant she should watch a vid, or check into a hotel spa. Hit up some slot machines. Whatever the hell else people usually did on shore leave. Except who was she going to do it with, except the rest of the crew? Rounds were one thing. Ashton had been right, all those years ago. You had to know your unit. They had to know they could trust you. Shepard knew the crew. They trusted that she'd get the job done. Always. That's as far as things went. Ashton had taught her one other thing. Him most of all, but also Granger, Evans, Wright. All of the 179. Fraternization regs existed for a damn good reason. Shepard kept a professional distance, and when soldiers were injured or died, they didn't take bits of her with them, anymore.

Never again, she'd promised herself after Akuze. _Never again_.

The only problem, of course, was that Shepard found that she could only shoot things for so long before it got boring, and then it was only a matter of time before it got irritating. The moving target system was practically an antique, and when Beth rented a sniper rifle from the desk, because it would have looked really weird carrying hers around in her civvies, the thing was a piece of shit. The barrel had a distinct leftward warp, the stabilizers were shot to hell, and the scope was pretty much just a piece of glass with a crosshairs in it. Eventually, Shepard gave it up and tried to go back to the ship.

That bastard Anderson had issued an order. The ship's automated systems told her in a stupid, polite metallic VI voice that "XO Shepard, access is restricted to the deck until 0900, tomorrow, June 19, 2180, by order of the commanding officer. Have a nice day."

Shepard almost hacked the damn thing before she remembered that technically that could be considered a crime against the Alliance, and didn't. Instead, she wandered around the settlement until she got sort of hungry, then brought up a list of bars within walking distance on her omnitool and picked the one with the lowest rating, the one where the rest of the crew were least likely to be and invite her to join them out of some misguided courtesy or sense of obligation.

The place was dimly lit and full of smoke. In a colony full of pharmacists, Shepard didn't wonder that this place wasn't extremely popular, if it was smoker-friendly. Shepard ignored the noxious clouds and sat down at the bar. Even in the low lights, she could see fingerprints and leftover food crumbs all along the length of it, and the bartender was a shifty looking, heavy-set man with iron gray hair and a perpetual frown. She wasn't too bothered by it. She'd grown up in dodgier places.

She signaled the bartender, fully intending to get as close to shit-faced drunk as she safely could alone without back-up in this place. From her days in the 179 and a couple of really bad flaming hoops she'd jumped through as a grunt to prove herself to the different units before then, she knew she could handle her gun or a barroom brawl while pretty far gone, but she had no intention of passing out here. Just to get her brain submerged enough in the stuff it couldn't think. With no work in front of her, no objective, her mind was already starting to wander.

She was halfway through her steak sandwich, but only just started on her whiskey when the bartender slid her another. Shepard looked up.

"Don't look at me," the bartender grunted. "It's on that guy."

He pointed at a man at the other end of the bar. Shepard gave him the once-over. Youngish, but no kid. Reasonably attractive. Tall. Obviously took care of himself. Dark hair, and sparkling green eyes shooting an openly admiring expression her way. She was supposed to pick up on it. The drink was invitation, the look the prelude to a proposition. He tipped his glass at her.

Shepard considered. Then, because she was so damn empty it hurt, and because she was leaving in the morning, she raised an eyebrow and jerked her head. The guy obligingly came over.

"Thanks for the drink," she said. "Beth."

"Aaron. Haven't seen you here before. You come here often?"

"No. Just a stop on the road. My ship leaves in the morning."

"Business trip?"

Shepard looked down at her gun. Aaron's eyes followed her glance, and widened. Shepard smirked at him. "You could say that."

"Alliance, huh? Here on shore leave?"

"On the _Defiance._"

Shepard wondered when he'd skip the small talk and get to the point, and she guessed he got the message, because he asked, "And your one night of shore leave, they let you come out here all alone? Got any plans?"

"Don't know," Shepard said. "Unless you've got some ideas."

From the expression on his face, the way his entire body relaxed, Shepard knew the conversation was going as perfectly as Aaron could wish. She wasn't even going to make him work for it. And it wasn't like she cared what he thought about her. She was never going to see him again.

"Oh, I've got a few," he said.

After, Aaron lay on the bed, grinning like an idiot. Not quite the veteran she'd initially taken him for, after all. But it didn't change that he'd certainly taken his chance. Shepard felt sorry for him, even as she despised him at the same time, despised herself. Her heart seemed to have crystallized, but for the first time in two years her head was clear, and not from exhaustion. Her meds were back on the ship, but Shepard didn't think she'd need them tonight. Maybe she was despicable, but maybe she'd be okay.

She hadn't paid much attention to the place coming in. Now she looked around. Aaron's apartment was small, comfortably cluttered. The furniture was mismatched. The television and the fridge were the main features of the place, and peering into the open bathroom, she only saw one toothbrush, so Shepard was reasonably certain she hadn't crushed any ongoing permanent relationship with a woman. It disturbed her now to find that it wouldn't have mattered to her, even if she had.

She sat up, reached for the hair tie on the nightstand. She finger-combed her hair into some mockery of order, and kneeling down, began to get dressed again.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asked, grinning. "You don't have to go _that_ fast. Stay a while. We'll get pizza, or something. Good old-fashioned Earth pizza. Pepperoni? You aren't leaving till the morning, right?"

Shepard pulled on her pants and began lacing up her right boot. "I'll stay at a motel," she said. "Look. I'm sorry. I said I'm leaving tomorrow, and you were pretty excited about that before. I thought you'd know what this was. We had fun. Take the win, and don't waste time feeling guilty about it."

Aaron fell back against the headboard, staring. "Wow. Just…wow. I guess. Um…thanks?"

"Yeah." Shepard pulled on her shirt. Stood.

"_Did_ you have fun, at least?" he asked, "Or does the ice in your veins numb everything?" He tried to grin, laugh off the hurt and self-doubt as he fumbled for his own pants to cover up now.

"So I used you, just like you used me," Shepard said, grabbing her gun and putting it back in its holster. "Doesn't mean it wasn't enjoyable. Better than painkillers, Aaron." She wanted to call him 'kid,' or 'hotshot,' put even more distance between them, but she'd at least look what she'd done in the face. Be honest with him, and herself.

He forced a laugh as he stood and pulled on his shirt. "Damn. You are a piece of work, aren't you, Beth? C'mon. I'll walk you out."

Shepard decided to allow him that much, and walked with him to the door. "I wasn't always like this," she murmured. "And I don't actually think this is your thing at all."

"Maybe not," he said. He was partly still hurt and angry, but his face softened somewhat, as he actually considered her words. He opened the door for her.

"Next time, Aaron, if you want her to stay, be someone who wants her to stay, and look for someone who will," Shepard told him.

"Yeah. You…you…good luck."


	21. Soldier: Motivation

**Disclaimer: Assumes a probably non-canonical lunch between the meeting with Nihlus and Anderson in ME1 and deployment to Eden Prime. Put here because I wanted it here, because this is a fanfiction, not Mass Effect proper. All rights to Nihlus and the game here disclaimed. **

**Section Warnings: Language. Discussion of prior use of prescribed medication for treatment of symptoms associated with PTSD.**

* * *

Soldier: Motivation

Nihlus sat down heavily across from Shepard, eyeing his tray with considerable misgiving. Shepard didn't really blame him. She wasn't sure Wiggins had ever tried to prepare dextro rations. She watched him, and smirked when he gamely dived in.

"Sure it's not going to kill you, Spectre?"

"No. That would be embarrassing, though. Everything I've been through. Downed by food poisoning," he said, swallowing. He made what had to be the turian equivalent of an expression of disgust. Human children had nightmares about teeth like that, Shepard thought to herself. She'd been getting used to turian teeth, though, over the last couple months on the _Normandy_ project. And anyway, vorcha were way worse. Just not as highly publicized in human media.

"Revolting," Nihlus commented.

"So. The Powers That Be think they'd better throw humanity a bone before some of us get pissed enough we start the Human Rebellions. They think a human should join the Spectres, and you recommended me," Shepard said. "Why?"

Nihlus chuckled appreciatively. "You've got a good handle on the situation. To many people, humanity _does_ seem like the new krogan, only even less predictable."

"That's not saying much. The krogan are pretty damn predictable. If they can shoot it, they want to shoot it. The end."

"Humanity has displayed similar aggression in the past."

"Mm. Most of us at least ask questions before we start shooting," Shepard said. "You can't always say the same for the turians."

"There's bad feeling on both sides over the Relay 314 Incident," Nihlus said. "But we're working together now. The Council hopes a human Spectre will help humanity feel invested in intergalactic law."

"Without actually getting a say."

"I hope that won't always be the case," Nihlus said. "It's true I'm a minority, but I see potential in your species. Look at the _Normandy_. This ship shows what our races can accomplish together. Humans have an admirable adaptability, an essential trait in a Spectre. You show more than most."

"Akuze?" Shepard asked shortly.

"That may have been when the Council started watching you, but what caught my attention was that incident on Asteria last year. The actions you took on the field saved a lot of lives, and later, you witnessed in court on behalf of the colony. You didn't have to do that. Most humans wouldn't have, for the asari."

"The right thing to do is the right thing to do, whether the innocents at risk are human, blue and tentacled, or only have six fingers," Shepard shrugged, with a nod at Nihlus' hands. "There's too much ugly and stupid in the galaxy. I've seen enough of it. I do the decent thing where I can. Try to leave something good behind at least as often as I take the bad things out."

"And _that's_ why I recommended you, Commander," Nihlus said, with satisfaction. "That's what we need in the first human Spectre. Someone who will get the job done right, regardless of the politics, colors, and amino-acid structure. The humans will try to make you a champion. The Council will try to make you a symbol. You? You do your job, whatever that might be, in the best way you know how."

"I always do my job," Shepard said, finishing her meal. "You know that or you wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have made it this far. Why are you here, anyway?"

"You're certainly direct," Nihlus observed. "That could work for you or against you, Commander. We'll see how it goes. I'm here because I want to see how you do your job, and more importantly, _why_."

"Why?" Shepard repeated.

"Why," Nihlus agreed. "I can't know what kind of Spectre you'll be unless I know why you make the decisions you make. What do you fight for, Commander Shepard?"

Shepard stared. "What do you want me to say?" she asked finally. "Patriotism, the Alliance? Humanity?"

"Only if it's the truth."

When Shepard had been a child, she'd gotten into all sorts of trouble in school because she couldn't keep her damn mouth shut or lie when she needed to lie, couldn't let idiots well enough alone or pretend to be less than she was. She hadn't completely been able to fool the Reds, even when her survival and escape depended upon them thinking her at first different than she was, then less than she was. She'd hated holding back, hated the flattery and deception, and she'd stopped it the second she'd been able. Now, she was well known as someone who'd give it to you straight, no matter how cold or unpleasant the truth turned out to be. It was why Anderson's people had always trusted her, even when they didn't like her. She never took the easy way out, never lied to herself or to others. Not anymore.

And now Nihlus had asked her the question, she had to answer, "Sir, I just…I don't know what the hell I'm fighting for."

In the beginning, she'd fought to get out. Later, when she'd established herself and met Ashton, she'd fought for herself, to be the officer he'd thought she could be and she increasingly believed she could be. But after Akuze, all ambition had died. After that, she'd fought for Anderson, because she owed it to him, or just to keep herself sane.

It'd probably been almost two years, though, since she'd felt she _had_ to fight. She was an N7, and she'd earned it. The best damn XO in the fleet. Anderson said so, and Shepard knew it was true, because she'd worked like hell to make it true. She'd saved his life a couple times. They were at the top of their cooperative game. She didn't owe him anything. Not anymore. And as for the desperation, the demons in her head, time had done its thing. Frantic excellence, struggling to prove she could hack it, forcing back the screams from that night in 2177, the aching emptiness where Sean Ashton had been torn from her before she'd quite let him go, had become a habit of excellence, practiced competence. She hadn't needed meds to sleep or keep her food down for…_had_ it been over two years? Emptiness had become so routine Shepard didn't even feel it anymore.

But she didn't feel anything else, either. She tried to do the decent thing, like she'd said, but now she thought about it, she didn't have the faintest idea why. There was too much ugly and stupid in the galaxy, but why was it her job to fix it?

Profoundly disturbed, Shepard stood, grabbed her tray. "Sir," she said.

"Commander." Nihlus tried one more bite, then gave it up. Shepard took his tray, too. "Figure it out, Commander," he said. "What you're fighting for. A Spectre acts alone, without your Alliance supervision. Unless you have a motivation, you'll be flying blind." He stood. "See you down on Eden Prime."

Shepard nodded, and went to turn the trays in before she got Jenkins and Alenko.

* * *

**A/N: This concludes the three sections of The Disaster Zone covering Beth Shepard's backstory before the events of the Mass Effect trilogy. **

**A bit of explanation about this chapter, which takes place immediately before the events of ME1. I always wished Shepard got to know Nihlus a bit better. I wanted her to have a conversation with him about her review as the candidate in question to become the first human Spectre, and shed a little light both on her competence for the role as well as her unpreparedness for the mental and emotional aspects of what she'll have to deal with in the years to come. In the beginning of the Sole Survivor's game, Udina and Anderson speculate that Shepard might have some seriously emotional scarring from what happened at Akuze. I hope I've shed some light on how that might have come about, about how the loss of her unit tore open wounds Shepard had almost healed from and left her hard, harder than even she'd been on the streets with her life and liberty every day in the balance. **

**Let me know what you think! I'll post again soon.**

**LMSharp**


	22. Awakening: A Reason

**Disclaimer: If you recognize the dialogue, it's pulled from ME1. If you don't, it still might be from ME1, and you didn't choose those responses. But if you've chosen all of them, and you don't recognize the dialogue, I made it up and here disclaim it because I used Bioware's story, characters, and some of their dialogue with it.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Violence.**

**Characters/Pairings: Shepard, Kaidan, Ashley.**

* * *

Awakening: A Reason

Shepard knelt by Jenkins' corpse. "Stupid, overeager bastard," she muttered. "Too battle-hungry to watch his damn step, and we _knew_ something'd gone down."

The new lieutenant, Alenko, was looking like he was about to lose his lunch. As a biotic, he probably hadn't seen a lot of front lines action. He wasn't supposed to see it this time. This was a damn shakedown run on the books, and even off books, an uncomplicated pick-up-our-package. That was how it was supposed to go. There weren't supposed to be hostile geth. Nobody was supposed to die. Smoke rose in the distance. Shepard had a nasty feeling it was the colony, burning.

"His family was here," Alenko said. "Saw that vid in the briefing, and…"

"I know," Shepard snapped. She _hated_ losing people. She stood. "We'll send a team down here later to retrieve the body. Give him a proper service. But right now our priority has to be to secure that beacon. You good to go, Lieutenant?"

"Aye-aye, ma'am."

Shepard gave Alenko the once-over. She didn't know him yet, hadn't ever worked with him before _Normandy_, but his jaw was set and his hands on his pistol were steady. The nausea seemed to have passed, and he did seem like he could go on. "Move out."

The place was crawling with synthetics. Shepard didn't know what the hell they were doing on Eden Prime. She'd never seen them before. But something somewhere had kicked some kind of hornet's nest, hard. Bodies were everywhere. Bodies in and out of uniform. But there were still not as many as there should have been. Mostly, the colony was deadly silent.

In a way, it was an incredible relief when Shepard heard someone shooting in the distance. It meant she, Alenko, and Nihlus weren't the only organics still alive in the colony. But the soldier was in a bad way, pinned down by three geth, surrounded by the bodies of the fallen. And one guy…Shepard hissed as the geth impaled him on an enormous steel stake, like this was Transylvania or something.

"What the hell?"

The soldier on the ground fired at the geth. Female in Phoenix armor. It looked like she was wounded, but not beyond saving. Shepard knelt behind a rock, pulled out her rifle, and picked off the geth. One, two, three. The human woman stood, looking around. Shepard strode up to her.

Her too-bright brown eyes ran over Shepard's uniform, catching her commander's stripes. "Thanks for your help, commander," she said in a shaking voice. "I didn't think I was going to make it. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212. You the one in charge here, ma'am?"

"I'm Commander Shepard. This is Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko," Shepard confirmed. "The Alliance sent us to retrieve the Prothean beacon. Are you wounded, Williams?"

She pulled up a medi-gel application on her omni-tool, scanning Williams' armor for breaches, but Williams waved her off. "A few scrapes and burns. Nothing serious. The others weren't so lucky."

Her eyes wandered off to the guy on the stake. She started shaking. "Oh, man, we were patrolling the perimeter when the attack hit. We tried to get off a distress call, but they cut off our communications. I've been fighting for my life ever since."

"We received a partial transmission," Shepard said. "It's geth, isn't it?"

"I think so," Williams confirmed.

"The geth haven't been seen outside the Veil in nearly two hundred years," Alenko observed. "Why are they here now?"

"They must have come for the beacon," Williams shrugged. "The dig site is close, just over that rise," she said, pointing. "It might still be there."

The way she was shaking, still looking back at that guy on the stake, the blood on her armor where she'd probably tried to carry some other poor bastard to safety, the whole thing was like looking in a mirror, five years back. Shepard stood where Templeton had stood, coming in to pull her ass out of the disaster zone, and knew Williams was seconds away from totally falling apart, unless she gave her something to do. Fast. They weren't out of the fire yet.

"We could use your help, Williams," she said. "We lost a man back there, and we don't know what we're going into here."

Williams' jaw set then. "Aye-aye, ma'am," she said. "It's time for payback."

She set off, leading the way to the dig site. Shepard looked at the Lieutenant, pointed at Williams' back, nodded. _You watch her. _

Alenko nodded. He got it. As the three of them pressed on, Alenko helped Shepard watch Williams' back, make sure she didn't break under fire after all she'd been through. She kept it together, though. Kept her head. And she proved to be damn good with her assault rifle, too.

Everything was burning. Nothing was the way it should have been. The beacon wasn't at the dig site. And further on, they ran into more bodies impaled on the stakes. Only this time, as they drew near, the stakes shrank back into their bases, and the bodies slid off, now _things_, hybrid abominations. Tech zombies. They straightened to their feet, and began running toward the team with empty, glowing eyes and gaping mouths.

"Oh, god! They're still alive!"

"What did the geth do to them?"

"Never mind that! Open fire!" Shepard shouted.

The things kept coming and coming, impervious to a shot that would have made the humans they used to be fall to the ground, screaming in pain. Only an explosive shot to the torso or a perfect headshot, it looked like, brought down the things. More, they exploded in electrical bursts when this happened. The lieutenant was close to one, and cried out in pain as the charge went through him. Shepard ran over to him. One swipe of her omnitool brought back the medi-gel application she'd almost used on Williams. She applied it to the burn, and the gel went to work, repairing the damage.

There were only two survivors at the research station where the archaeologists had been living, and right after that, Nihlus, who had been giving Shepard regular updates on his status over the radio, went silent. Shepard was feeling worse and worse about this mission.

They continued on, once the research station had been secured, toward the dock Nihlus had mentioned. And then, on the horizon, leaving the planet, they saw a ship, massive. The one that had been visible on the partial transmission from the 212 earlier. It was shaped like an enormous black hand, or a squid, trailing crackling red energy. It rocketed up, and away from the burning buildings of the colony, up ahead.

"Whatever that ship left behind it can't be good," Shepard murmured. "Let's keep moving."

There were just four survivors on the docks among the geth rear guard and the human corpses. And one turian corpse. One of the survivors had been hiding behind the crates and had witnessed Nihlus' murder by another turian, one called Saren. One of the surviving scientists back at the research station had mentioned a turian, but Shepard had discounted his statement because he'd referred to the turian arriving before Nihlus could have possibly arrived, and the scientist in question had been more than a little unsettled by the attack. But now Shepard realized she'd been informed there'd been another turian in play.

The dock worker, Powell, told them the other turian, Saren, had taken the cargo train to the other docking platform. As Shepard looked at the geography of it, she realized the ship they'd seen before had to have left from the other platform.

"Let's move," she said. "Double-time."

That was how they found the charges. Shepard's bad feeling had been right on. The turian, Saren, had set the geth at the rear to blow up the docks. When she saw the first charge, with the timer five minutes and counting, she yelled.

"Lieutenant, Chief, keep 'em off me! Gotta shut these down or we'll all be blown sky high!"

There were returning shouts of affirmation, but Shepard was already moving. She shut down the last charge with seconds to spare and stood with the others, on the now vacant platform, breathing heavily.

"Commander, look," Williams said.

She pointed to the edge of the dock, where a tall, unmistakably Prothean artifact stood, glowing green. "It's the beacon," she said. "But it wasn't doing anything like that at the dig site…"

"It's been activated," Shepard said. "Don't—"

She was already getting the idea that Alenko was too smart, too curious for her own damn good. He kept asking the _why_ and _how_ questions, when those were better off waiting until they'd got out alive. Now he proved her right about him again by stepping just a centimeter too close to the beacon. He gasped, tried to cry out. Some energy field from the thing started to lift him off his feet.

The only thing that flashed through Shepard's mind then was _she was not losing anybody else_. She tackled him, but then she was in the field, and she couldn't get free, and a vast, alien presence drove into her mind like red hot poker.

And then it was a blur of images. Protheans screaming, blood spurting, buildings toppling, planets exploding into dust. Everything, everything, falling to fire and crumbling to ash. An overwhelming pain, loss, anger flooded every part of Beth Shepard's mind. The suffering of an entire species, an entire civilization, and one black ship, like the one she'd just seen, against a dying star.

It was too much. Beth blacked out.

* * *

When she came to, she was back on the _Normandy_, with Doc Chakwas leaning over her and Alenko looking like he was afraid he'd killed her, until she told him that aside from a splitting headache, she was fine. Then it was all debriefs and explanations and what-the-hell-do-we-do-nows, and at last a decision to report what had happened to the Council on the Citadel. It was that big.

The colony on Eden Prime had been almost completely destroyed. So had the beacon, after whatever vision it had transferred directly into Shepard's brain. Apparently it had been damaged, anyway, damaged either by Saren, who Anderson thought must have activated it and used it first, and attempted to blow up the port so no one else would be able to access the information it contained, or already damaged when it had been unearthed at the dig site. Anderson thought that the damage might account for the disjointed quality of the information Shepard had received. Shepard thought it was probably because she wasn't a freaking Prothean.

Saren was another Spectre, like Nihlus. Anderson seemed to know of him. Hate him, too. He seemed incredibly eager to report Saren's rogue alliance with the geth, the destruction of Eden Prime. Not just because it was the right thing to do. Like it was personal, somehow. He didn't tell Shepard about it, and Shepard didn't ask. It was personal for her. More personal than anything had been in years. Anderson left Shepard in the med bay. For a while, even though Doc Chakwas had cleared her, Shepard stayed, staring at the wall.

"What do you fight for, Commander Shepard?" Nihlus had asked, just yesterday, in what had to be the last conversation he'd had before his death. Shepard hadn't been able to give him an answer. If he'd asked now, she thought she would be able to answer.

Eden Prime. What Saren and the geth had done to the colony down there set her angry on a deep, deep level. Angrier than she'd ever been in her life. Shepard had seen a lot of action. A lot of suffering. But she'd never seen anything like what the geth had done to the people down there. They hadn't killed them. Hadn't raped or enslaved them, where there was a chance of freedom, of healing. No, the geth had _changed_ those colonists, those soldiers, turned them into mindless, monstrous tech zombies. Nonhumans. Anti-humans. Abominations. Hacking people, mutilating corpses, _using_ corpses as weapons against their former friends. Not only was it unnecessary, it was dirty, _wrong_, on the most basic level. Jenkins' family had been down there. Shepard wondered if one of the things down there had once been Jenkins' mom, or one of his siblings. Stopped. That was a quick way to go the hell to pieces if she'd ever seen one. Fighting against that was more of a reason to destroy something than Beth Shepard had ever had in her life.

But there was more to it, even. That vision, that freaking _trip_ that had burned through Shepard's brain. Shepard didn't know what the hell it was about, but if Saren wanted to know about _it_, Shepard suspected this could be bigger than a rogue Spectre and geth beyond the Veil, even. Whatever the hell she'd seen was relevant to what Saren was doing, and that scared Shepard out of her mind. She couldn't piece together a single image's significance from her vision, except that ship, a ship just like the one she'd seen over Eden Prime. Saren's ship. In the vision, it was pretty damn clear what the ships like that had meant, even if nothing else made any sense at all. Death. Slaughter. Extinction.

The feeling curled in Shepard's stomach like a six foot rattlesnake, bloated, heavy, hard, and deadly poisonous. It was urgent she stop Saren from doing whatever he meant to do with the information in that beacon, information he'd killed an entire colony to get. But good as she was, she couldn't, she just _couldn't_ do it all on her own. She couldn't keep on like she had been. She couldn't be the ace officer that led her team, but didn't rely on them, too damn scared of losing her resources to utilize them. There was no way she could stop _this_ that way.

Five years frozen, doing it all on her own, because she'd always been able to handle it, and because it'd never _mattered_ before. Never again, she'd promised herself. _Never again_.

Well. To hell with that. She didn't have room for that, even if reaching out again was just a little less frightening than Saren and whatever he was doing.

Shepard slid off the medical table, pinned her hair back up, and strode out of the med bay.

Williams was sitting alone at a table in the mess, tracing designs on the surface with a fingertip. Her eyes were glassy, her mouth slightly open. She was still back on Eden Prime. Shepard knew the signs. Anderson was Anderson, but no one else had even caused a blip on Shepard's ladar since Akuze. She hadn't let them. But even without Saren, without the need for allies against him she could rely on, if she ignored Williams now, it would be unforgivable. She couldn't live with herself if she did.

Sweeps had confirmed. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was the sole survivor of the Alliance 212.

Beth sat down across from her. "It's like you've been spaced, isn't it?" she murmured. "Like you're lost, suffocating back there, watching them die around you again, and again, and again."

Williams sucked in a breath, closed her eyes, clenched her fists.

"Say it, Williams," Beth ordered her.

"They're all gone," Williams whispered. "Dead. My entire unit…the whole 212…"

"Yes. They are. Williams. Look at me."

Williams turned her haunted face up to Beth. Her jaw was clenched. Sheer will kept her from shattering. Beth respected that. "I'm probably the only one in the Fleet that can say I know exactly what you're going through," she said. "It was five years ago for me. I was just your age. Operations Chief. And like the 212, the 179 had no warning before the attack, no chance to call for help. And just like you, I was left alone in the end, with all my unit, all my friends, dead around me, wondering why the hell I'd survived, when they didn't."

"I wouldn't have. If you hadn't been there—"Williams began.

"Maybe not, but you did, and now you're here, alive, so listen to me. What you're feeling right now, it'll paralyze you, if you let it. But you _can't let it_. Thresher maws are one thing, but what we just saw…if it's half as bad as I think it is, the Alliance will need you at the top of your game. _I'll_ need you. You and Alenko are the only other military witnesses we have, and I'll need you to help me fight the enemy."

"Thresher maws…" Williams blinked. "Akuze. That was you? How did you…? Commander, they're all _gone_. They were good people, ma'am. Why? Why them, and not me?"

"I asked myself that question every day for six months, Williams," Beth sighed. "I still don't know. I was up when the attack hit. Most of them weren't, but we had some damn quick risers in the 179. Augustus, we always said he slept with one eye open and his finger on the trigger. There's no reason in it. It was luck. Fortunes of war. Fate. Hell, God, maybe. Don't know if He was saving or punishing me." She grimaced. "Maybe my gun just didn't overheat, or I was the only one anal enough to carry around my radio everywhere, even when we thought we were safe. Orwell and Granger heard me. No one else did. And Orwell and Granger…they didn't make it. For whatever reason, though, I'm here, and they're not. _You're_ here, and _they're _not."

Williams closed her eyes, gripped the table so hard the metal creaked and her knuckles turned white as bone. Two tears squeezed out from under her eyelashes and ran down her face, but no more. She just sat there, silent, fighting the battle to keep herself from breaking, and winning.

Beth sat with her until the shaking had slowed, and stopped, and Williams had opened her eyes again. This time, she saw Beth and the mess, not Eden Prime.

"Thanks for saving me, ma'am," she said. "I'm glad you're here. What we saw—the Alliance will need you most of all."

"You and Alenko were the ones that dragged my ass back to the ship," Beth said. "Thank _you_."

"The LT did most of the dragging. Though carrying that monster rifle of yours was no picnic. That thing's as big as you are, ma'am, and it weighs a _ton_." She forced a smile.

Shepard smiled back, encouraging the effort. "Packs a hell of a punch, though. Carry on, Wiliams." She stood, clapped Williams on the back.

"Aye-aye, ma'am."

"Let's take this bastard down."


	23. Awakening: Diplomacy

**Disclaimer: Bioware's game, events, and characters. I'm just playing.**

**Section Warnings: Language.**

**Characters/Pairings: Shepard/Kaidan friendship. Unrequited Kaidan-Shepard, if you know the game and read between the lines.**

* * *

Awakening: Diplomacy

"…we're freeing nice doctors from blackmail, breaking up smuggling rings and saving C-Sec snitches, stopping proselytizing on the Presidium, uncovering gang corruption, making Alliances with _three_ different species to take Saren down. Seems like we're doing everything except what we need to be doing! Still can't convince the damn Council. I hate politicians! Freaking image-obsessed, pressed suits, manicured hands so the blood doesn't show on the vids, always thinking how to…screw it. Screw it. I don't need their damn back-up. I'll do their freaking dirty work. Someone has to take Saren down."

Kaidan calmly watched Shepard pacing up and down the dock. "Udina did the best he could to get us back-up. He still might come through," he said.

"Udina. Don't even get me started on Udina. 'Remember you were a human long before you became a Spectre,' just as if Saren and the geth aren't a threat to everybody in the sky. Not to mention the Reapers, _whatever_ the hell they really are. God, I don't even want to _think_ about how screwed we are if Saren and this Benezia person manage to bring back the things that wiped out the Protheans! But what he did to Anderson!"

"You've worked with him a long time, haven't you?"

"Five years. He's a good man. He deserves better than this. Forced retirement? It's all shit."

"You're pissed. I get that," Kaidan said. "We're in way over our head here. We need help and they're not going to give it to us, and the guy that's supposed to be fighting for us screwed your friend. Fine. But you can't let it affect you like this, commander."

"I know. I know," Shepard said. She stopped pacing. "My first command," she said, looking up at Kaidan and smiling suddenly. "The first command that's really mine, and I get saddled with _this_."

"Hell of a way to start out, ma'am, but we're all behind you. You can do this. We'll take Saren down. You're a Spectre, now. I mean, not much can get in your way."

"That's certainly what Wrex and Vakarian think. Might be a bit of a job, reining in those two."

"You know, I'm actually more worried about Garrus?" Kaidan remarked. "It's weird, but I think our turian friend's more of a loose cannon than the krogan. Wrex'll follow orders."

"He didn't back in Chora's Den. He told me he'd shoot Fist, though. Shouldn't have taken him. But now, I think you're right. Garrus is good though. Smart. And hell, that shot he made in Michel's office? I haven't seen a shot like that in…well, never. Not in the field. It was a thing of beauty, even if it was a damn _risky _thing to do."

"And what about Tali, the quarian?" Kaidan asked.

"She's good with her omnitool. I'll give her that. But I don't think I'll be very comfortable taking her out in the field," Shepard admitted. "She's a kid, Kaidan. A freaking kid. I mean, what the hell do the quarians think they're doing, sending their children off alone like that? I mean, if they sent them in teams, that'd be one thing. But…"

"The quarians don't have the resources to send their children away in groups like that," Kaidan observed. "She handled herself pretty well in the alley, I think."

Shepard shook her head doubtfully. "Maybe. But I still think it's wrong, that she's out here on her own like this. I'm glad we found her, just for that." She took a deep breath.

"You good to go in now, Commander?" Kaidan asked.

"Yeah, yeah. I just needed to…thanks," Shepard said awkwardly. "For staying. Even though I told you all to go inside. Sorry I…"

"I know what we're up against, Commander. It's a lot. But I trust you. You'll get us out of this."

"Let's hope so, Kaidan. For all our sakes."


	24. Awakening: Allegiance

**Disclaimer: Finch is from the game. Nash, Lopez, Stace and her family, and the random kid aren't, but are here disclaimed.**

**Section Warnings: Brief strong language. Violence. Sexual references. Adults drinking responsibly, and possibly one underage drinker, but still drinking responsibly with adult supervision. **

**Characters/Pairings: Shepard/Garrus/Tali friendship.**

* * *

Awakening: Allegiance

Shepard liked keeping the teams small so there was always a back-up squad on the ship and maybe even one behind, even on the Citadel, where there wasn't a huge likelihood that they'd be fighting a battle for their lives anytime soon. Then again, there'd been a few shootouts last time. Still, she'd taken Fist down, and she didn't intend on going anywhere rough this time. Tali was with her, because it was a good opportunity to get the girl off the ship and out and about without taking her into any hot zones. Vakarian, too, because he knew the lay of the land down here better than any of the others and said he could probably get her some good deals at the suppliers.

Shepard still hadn't quite worked Vakarian out. Kaidan and Ashley were Alliance. They were assigned to the _Normandy_, paid to serve with Shepard. Wrex was bored and looking for a fight Shepard had to give him. Tali had an interest in learning more about the geth, and Liara an interest in learning more about the Protheans, and both of them needed protection, besides, though Tali probably wouldn't admit it. Vakarian, though, had quit his _job_ to help track down Saren. He'd bet everything on Shepard being able to help him close a case that C-Sec wouldn't let him close. It was dedication like Shepard hadn't ever seen before. Or obsession. Either way, took a hell of a lot of courage, a hell of a lot of trust in Shepard's ability. Vakarian watched her, she'd noticed. All the time. Like he was taking notes or something. Had some sort of awe for the Spectres. A lot of respect for her that she didn't exactly know how she'd earned. Not that she was complaining. She didn't know about Liara yet and didn't like a kid as young as Tali in the field, but Wrex was a juggernaut, Ash was dependable, and Kaidan was solid with the clearest head on the squad. But as far as versatility, combat instinct, and raw potential went, Shepard thought Garrus Vakarian might be the best damn man she had.

"Here," he said. "Let me talk to Expat for you. Might be a license we can grab for the outfitters in the hold."

"More expensive to requisition from the Normandy," Shepard remarked. "If you see something better than we've got and we can afford it, figure out a way to negotiate. We need the best equipment we can find."

"Shepard?" A voice came from the shadows, to the right. Shepard's hand went to her pistol, and she turned to see a small, thin man with brown, weathered, hard-looking face leaning up against a wall there. Thin lips widened in an unpleasant smirk. "Little Beth! They told me it was you, but I didn't believe it. Little Beth, all grown up and turned into a soldier."

"Who is this guy, Shepard?" Vakarian wanted to know, ready for action if there was a threat.

Beth held up a hand. "It's alright, Garrus, Tali." _I think_, she added silently in her head. "What do you want, Finch?" she asked.

Finch's grin widened. "What do you know? First human Spectre remember her old pals from the gutter. You know, none of the vids mention you ran with the Tenth Street Reds when they're talking about you."

"It's not a secret. Just uninteresting," Beth said. "And it's behind me now, anyway."

Finch's face hardened. "That's what I've heard. Relax, Little Beth. We're not trying to make any trouble for you. We just want a favor, for old times' sake. One of the Reds, Curt Weisman, got picked up by turians. We'd like you to talk to the turian guard in the bar and get Curt out."

Beth folded her arms. She didn't know Weisman, but she knew Finch. He'd been a forger, back in the day, and a low level hitter. Nasty, though. One of Nash's. And Shepard had been forwarded some stuff on the Reds from Alliance command in the past four years or so, in the event of something like this. The Reds weren't what they'd used to be.

"Yeah, I don't think so, Finch."

"Suit yourself, Little Beth. If you change your mind, he's over in Chora's Den. Take care of this, and you'll never see me again."

Beth bristled. "The implication being that if I don't, I might. Is that how it is?"

Finch smirked. "Take it how you like. But Little Beth, you might be all grown up and different now, but you really don't want the Reds as your enemies."

He slouched off then, into the shadows.

"What was that, Shepard?" Tali asked.

"Trouble," Beth said shortly. "One way or another, I have to take care of this. Come on."

Chora's Den was a dive. Shepard had spent enough time here the last time on the Citadel. She'd hoped not to come back. The place smelled like liquor and vomit, human and alien, and there were idiots drooling over mostly naked women every which way. Many asari _liked_ being ogled, especially when young, but it still felt wrong to Shepard's street brain, that had spent years trying to avoid ending up exactly where those girls shaking their blue asses were, or someplace very similar.

Vakarian nodded at a turian near the back, doing some of the aforementioned ogling. "He's off-duty, but he's C-Sec," he said. "Naxus. He does some prison duty. Probably the guard your friend mentioned."

"Finch is _not_ my friend," Beth muttered. But nevertheless, she went up to the guard, Naxus. He didn't look too happy to be distracted from the stripper, but he focused on Vakarian.

"Garrus? What are you doing here? Thought you quit to—"then he saw Shepard. "Ah. Spectre. What can I do for you?"

Beth got straight to the point. "You got a human in custody by the name of Curt Weisman?"

It was hard to tell with turians, but Shepard thought he scowled. "Yeah. We're keeping that xenophobe locked up tight."

Shepard pinched her lips together. Xenophobe. Yeah, according to the intel Nash had taken the Reds in that direction. He'd always hated aliens. And he'd always hated her. Sending Finch for her now, she could practically feel Nash's huge, hammy hand on her shoulder, shoving her forward, daring her to prove herself a real Red, except his warped version of what a Red should be. "What'd he do?" she asked.

"The human acknowledged his affiliation with several anti-alien organizations," Naxus reported promptly. "His crime specifically targeted turians as a species. It was a hate crime, and will be treated as such at his sentencing."

Vakarian's laser-focused blue eyes were drilling a hole into the back of Beth's skull. She didn't look at him. "Fine," she told Naxus. "But you've got trouble. Weisman has friends. They want him out. Watch him."

"Yeah, we knew he had back-up," Naxus said. "He was too well-equipped for it to be a solo job. Thank you for the information, Spectre. We'll increase the guard on his cell."

"I knew you'd rat us out, Shepard!"

Beth turned. Somehow, it didn't surprise her to find Finch had tailed them here. "Nash always said you weren't really one of us," he sneered. "Now it's payback time. When we're through telling our story, the aliens will all know what the first human Spectre _really_ is."

"And what am I, Finch?" Beth demanded. "A kid from Vancouver that got involved in the gangs to survive? Anyone can find that out, if they look. And the Reds were different back then. We didn't specifically target aliens. Lopez never had a problem. Just Nash and dumb bastards like you."

"Lopez is long gone. Nash dusted that weak son of a bitch years back. The Reds are bigger now. Better," Finch bragged. "And I'm one of Nash's top guys."

"Well, that says a lot about the quality of his organization," Beth retorted. "The Reds may be bigger, but they're sure as hell not better."

"We're better off without you, anyway. You and all your soft, alien-loving kind. You used to like that bitch Paxton, didn't you? Her sister? Her brat? They're gone, too."

Beth studied his face. "Gone," she decided, "but not dead, I don't think. Nash may have got Lopez, but you didn't get Stace, did you? She got away. Bet Nash liked that. You wouldn't be anywhere if she'd stuck around. She was one of the best. Almost as good as me. Too smart to stay with _his_ loser Reds, especially once he killed Lopez. He tried to kill her, I guess. But I think she took the hitters down instead, and still got away, and you never found out where she and her family went."

Finch's hands had clenched, and he'd turned red, then purple as Beth told her story. She grinned. "I'm right, aren't I? Good for her. You mad now, Finch? You going to try to take _me_ down? You couldn't when I was fifteen years old, and you certainly can't now."

"I don't have to take you down, bitch," Finch hissed through gritted teeth. "All I have to do is tell a story. Just a little story. You were a Red once, and that's all I need. I know six guys who'd swear they saw you kill aliens for fun."

Beth stopped laughing. "The hell with that, Finch! I never killed _anyone_ when I ran with the Reds! I made _sure_ I didn't."

Finch just laughed at her. It didn't matter, what was true and what wasn't. He knew it, and so did Beth. It wasn't like the word of a few xenophobic gangbangers meant a lot, even if they were off-Earth, too, now. It was all politics. Image. And Beth was walking on ice already. The Council hadn't wanted to make her a Spectre in the first place. Not after Eden Prime. Not after the destruction of the beacon and Nihlus' death. They'd only made her a Spectre so they could say they'd done something about Saren without actually doing something about Saren, and so Udina wouldn't start a war over the underrepresentation of humans in Citadel Space. They certainly didn't like her. They didn't like that she'd proved Saren a traitor. They didn't like that she was pushing the Reapers. Given half an excuse, they'd strip her of her position and her mission, and Saren would keep on doing what he was doing, completely unimpeded.

Everyone was staring at her.

Finch thought he had Little Beth in a corner.

That C-Sec officer, Naxus, waited. He wondered what sort of Spectre she was, wondered if the Council had screwed up as badly as half the galaxy thought, when it set the street kid from Earth above intergalactic law. Beth didn't think he believed Finch, hoped he didn't, but he'd talk about what she did here with this attempted blackmail. And he maybe wondered if she hated aliens like her old buddies.

Tali's visor was turned toward Beth's face. She was probably wondering who this woman was she'd jumped aboard with. She'd been in a hell of a lot of trouble when they'd met, and Beth knew she was all Tali had until she returned to the flotilla, the only person in the galaxy that was going to give a damn and look out for the kid. Maybe she thought she'd fallen in with a bad crowd, the day Shepard had picked her up.

Beth could almost envision the notes Vakarian was taking in his head, turian characters on his visor. Who she was and what she'd do, and why he might have been a total idiot to take the gamble that he had, to trust her like he had.

Beth took a deep breath and met Finch's mocking, triumphant stare. "Nash was right about me, Finch," she said quietly. "I was never really a Red. And I won't let you twist what I actually was and use it against me. My mission is too important."

She saw the second Finch realized what she was saying, realized what it meant that Little Beth had grown up and become a soldier, a Spectre. Little Beth had never killed anybody. Commander Shepard had killed many, many times. Finch's entire body tensed, like he was going to run, but Beth was a quicker draw now than she'd been then, and she'd been quicker than Finch then. She drew her pistol and shot him twice, point-blank. Once in the head, once in the heart.

Beth whirled, and saw him, there, three meters away. A kid about twenty, in Earth-made clothes, eyes wide with horror, and not merely surprise. Finch's back-up. She crossed to him in a second, grabbed his collar. "What's your name?"

"V—Vance. Don't hurt me!" he stammered.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Vance. I want you to take a little message to the boss for me, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Just don't—"

"Listen. You tell Nash what happened here. You tell him _back the fuck off_. The Reds _don't screw with me_. I'm Alliance. I'm a Spectre. And I don't have time for his pitiful gang of two-credit, xenophobic thugs. Got it? I never want to see his people sniffing around me again. And if I hear anything, anything that isn't true about me and I even suspect they're behind it? I'm coming for him. You tell him that from Beth Shepard."

"Back off. Got it," the kid repeated, far too quickly, looking down where Finch's blood pooled on the filthy floor. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat. "I'll…I'll make sure the boss knows."

Beth let go. "Great. Then you have a nice day." The kid staggered back from her, owl-eyed, turned, and ran.

"Impressive," Naxus remarked from behind her. "Perhaps the first human Spectre will not be a disappointment after all. I'll see a report gets filed and this is taken care of, ma'am."

Shepard swallowed. She looked down at Finch, feeling suddenly sick. She glanced back up at Naxus. "Is this what a Spectre's supposed to be, then?" she asked quietly. She shook her head. "I'll be a disappointment," she told him. "Tali, Garrus, come on. I've had enough of this place. But we should talk."

The turian and the quarian followed her. No one spoke a word until they got to Flux. "Better here," Beth said. "Better drinks. Not as much blood."

The three of them sat around a table, and everyone ordered a stiff drink. Beth wondered briefly if Tali was underage. To hell with it, she decided. She wouldn't let the kid get drunk, and anyway, she wasn't anyone's mother.

Beth sat there for a moment, trying to decide how to tell them that it hadn't been crazy to join her, that she'd do the best she could for them, and that she wasn't how it might have looked back there.

"It was the only place to go," she murmured finally. "I didn't have a family. I was a ward of the state. Nobody was looking out for me, and the part of town where I lived, all my life? Girls don't—"she broke off, looking from one to the other of them, couldn't say it to a man she didn't know that well and a sheltered kid from the flotilla who'd probably only just learned that such things as prostitutes _existed_. "There weren't that many options," she amended. "I knew the Alliance would get me out, but I had to survive long enough to make it there, and there was only so much I could learn on my own," she continued. "The guy we were talking about, Lopez? He ran the gang back then. Kept things smaller, soft-core, under the radar. The Reds protected me, taught me to fight. I brought in customers for the gambling rings. Fixed the getaway car. Ran tech defense for base and our systems. Hacked a couple of other systems. Only the ones that belonged to assholes, anyway."

She still couldn't look at them. "I know how it might have looked back there. How it might have sounded. But I _swear_, that's all I did. I worked my ass off staying away from the bigtime stuff so I didn't get a record that would keep me from leaving. The boss now, Nash? He was second-in-command back then. He knew. Hated me for it. But he always kept an eye out for talent, and he knew I had it. When word got round to him that I'd become a Spectre, he must've…anyway, he won't, now. At least, he better not. I don't think he'll come after me again. He knows his limits. In the last couple years, he got careful around me. Knew I could probably take him in a fair fight."

Beth stared at the drink in her hands, admiring the way the lights flashed off the blue liquid in the glass. She didn't know why it was blue, but at least it had the same kick as the stuff back home. She waited. For what, she wasn't sure. Disappointed accusations, demands for explanations.

But instead, Tali asked, "That man mentioned a woman. Stace? And her family? Were they important to you?"

Beth blinked. Smiled. "Yeah," she said. "About the only people that were, back then. Stace was Lopez' girl. Top hitter in the Reds, too, back then. She taught me how to fight. How to shoot a gun. She did some terrible things to keep her sister Meg out of the gangs. She never even told me all of it. But even Nash was a little scared of her. She had a kid, when I was seventeen. Little girl named Hope. I used to help her with the baby, and she and Meg would help me with the other kids at the home when our foster parents went out. I'm glad they got out. She always hoped they would. I hope they're okay."

"If she was your first teacher, I'm sure she's just fine," Garrus said.

"It's nice to know you had friends," Tali remarked. "That they weren't all like that man. That you weren't always…" she trailed off.

"Always?" Shepard prompted.

Tali deflected. "In the flotilla, we are always surrounded by others. Space is limited on the ships. Everyone is like family. Even on the _Normandy_, there's too much room. People don't know each other as well as they do back home. And you—you're even more isolated than the rest of the crew. I wonder how you manage it."

"Let me get this straight. You're worried I might be lonely?" Beth repeated flatly. "Not that I might be a xenophobic, murderous gangbanger? Not that I just gunned down that guy back there?"

"He was threatening you. I assume bad things could have happened if he had followed through," Tali said, with a shrug. "I'm surprised you're worried I would think you were a criminal, Shepard. After you saved me from Fist's thugs, and after everything you've done on the Citadel already? Wherever you've been, you've moved on. And you're obviously not a xenophobe."

Shepard looked from Tali to Vakarian. She could swear he looked amused, even _smug_. "Your files are public record," he said in his turn. "And even if they weren't, I was C-Sec. I'm not an idiot. I looked you up before I signed on. I knew all about your life back on Earth from the beginning. You did what you had to, Shepard.

"And all the evidence shows you're not a xenophobe. You could have turned down every 'alien' you've run into since we first met." He ticked them off on his fingers, though with only three on each hand, he had to use both hands. "Me, Wrex, Tali, Dr. T'Soni. You don't really need any of us. None of us are Alliance or on the payroll." He smiled. Or his mandibles flared, anyway. "You're probably the most tolerant human I've ever met, Shepard, letting all of us tag along."

"Agreed," Tali said, firmly. "I don't actually know why we're even talking about it."

"I will admit I am a little surprised you killed Finch, though," Vakarian said. "Not that I don't approve, but so far, uh, it doesn't seem to fit in with your style."

Shepard grimaced. "You mean, where's the rule where I can tell you we do things the _right _way, but I can kill the idiot that tries to blackmail a Spectre with a C-Sec officer right there witness to the attempt. Finch always was a moron."

Vakarian's mandibles twitched. He waited.

"I could've just sent him to do time with his buddy," Shepard conceded. "If he'd been acting alone, I would have. You know I think killing should be a last resort. I stand by that. But it wasn't just him. I'm sure Nash sent him to rope me into getting Weisman out. He was rep for the Reds. I can't have them twisting my arm, Garrus, and I can't have them trashing my reputation. I'm on shaky ground as it is with the Council. First human Spectre and they already don't really like me. I had to send a message. And Nash—it's the only thing he'd understand."

Garrus considered this. "I know what you mean," he said.

Shepard tapped her fingers on her glass. "That_ life_," she mused. "I ran the _second_ I could. I've worked hard to get where I am, and nothing, _nothing_'s going to jeopardize where I'm going." She cleared her throat, looked from Garrus to Tali and back again. "I'm glad we're good," she said. "That you know I didn't…that I'm not…I wanted to say thanks. You _aren't_ Alliance, either of you. You aren't with me because you have to be. You're with me because you believe in what we're doing, that together we can handle it. And that you believe that, even though you know who I am, where I've been…that means something. I appreciate it."

Tali laughed her bell-like laugh. "We're your crew, Shepard. Your friends. Is that hard to say?"

Garrus' mandibles flared again, and his eyes sparkled. He was smiling, too.

Shepard took a drink. She couldn't remember the last time she'd given a damn about what anyone but Anderson thought of her, and for the longest time she'd only cared about _him_ because she owed him so much. But the second she'd decided she'd need people for her mission, things had been changing for her. And now relief, gratitude, something that _did_ feel suspiciously like Tali's _friendship_ flooded through her, leaving her warm, happy, the first _reason_ to command she'd ever had in her life, but also scared as hell.

"Yeah. Harder than you know," Shepard muttered. "So. Before we go see about helping Emily again. Think the dextro's any good here? I mean, I wouldn't know, though I ate some on accident once, so I at least know I'm not the sort that has an allergic reaction…or is that the other way around?"


	25. Awakening: Orphaned

**Disclaimer: Liara's a game-character, too. Events referenced are canonical.**

**Section Warnings: Language.**

**Characters/Pairings: Shepard/Liara friendship. Unrequited Liara-Shepard**

* * *

Awakening: Orphaned

The lab was cold, and the edge of the door frame dug into Shepard's shoulder as she leaned against it. There was a chair beside the table where Liara sat, but she felt wrong taking it. She stared at her feet. "I just…maybe I should've sent you back, when we found out Benezia was there. But I just thought it'd be worse, if you were here, and things went south, and I came back, and you knew I'd killed your mother. And I thought…I'd hoped, that if you were there, things might _not_ go south. I…I'm sorry."

"You did not kill Benezia," Liara said. "You killed a woman under Saren's control. I do not think my mother has been alive for some time now. Not _my_ mother. Not the woman I knew. But…you are right. If I had not been there, I might not have seen that."

Liara wrapped her arms around her body, trying to hold herself together. A tear dripped off the end of her nose. She looked exactly like the child she claimed she was, even though she was decades older than Shepard. She looked like one of the children from the homes Beth had grown up in, a new one, just taken from her parents. Beth couldn't help herself, she walked forward and sat in the chair, even though she still felt like she'd murdered Liara's mother and made her help.

"Liara, I—"she broke off. "I don't know what to say."

"There is nothing that can be said, at times like this," Liara said sadly. "It is enough, that you are here. Thank you."

"What was she like?" Beth asked. "Benezia. Before when she was just your mother. When you were little."

"I remember thinking she was the most elegant, beautiful woman in the world," Liara said. "She always kept fresh flowers in the house, and she loved the color yellow. She got me my first history book. She supported me, loved me. It was a happy childhood. Until she entered the Matriarch stage." Her face fell. "I do not know if you are aware, but asari…change, in the different life cycles. What is important to us shifts, and so do our responsibilities. As a matron, an asari focuses on her family. Nothing is more important. As a matriarch, she becomes responsible for advising and supporting our entire culture. When my mother became Matriarch Benezia, she became responsible for more than just me. She had new duties, and there was no time for me, anymore. I had not spoken with my mother in years before Noveria."

"It is strange," she observed, "How our parents stay with us, even decades after we've left them. What was your mother like, Shepard?"

Beth shrugged. "Not the mothering type. I never knew her. She didn't ever tell me who my dad was, either," she said, attempting to joke the bitterness away. It didn't work. Liara's mouth had fallen slightly open in shock. "She left me at the clinic the day I was born. Didn't even give me my name. The nurse in attendance did that, when they came around for the paperwork."

"I…I am so sorry," Liara said. "I had no idea. She must have had a good rea—I'm sure that…" she stopped. "Now I do not know what to say," she confessed. "What is appropriate? I wish-"

"Liara. Relax," Shepard said. "It's an old wound. I've made my peace with who I am and what I'll never know. It doesn't hurt anymore. But I'd love to hear more about your mother, if you want to tell me. I'm always curious to know about other people's families. I love talking to Ash about it. She has such a great one."

Liara's tearstained face grew thoughtful. "I believe you make your own family, Commander," she said, hesitantly. "Like you have made your own name. Commander Shepard is no longer a name a nurse gave you when your mother would not. You have written it into history. No one will forget it. Ever. And these people you gather around you, every person aboard this ship, they are loyal to you. We are your friends."

"That's what Tali says," Shepard said. "I'm not sure I like it, though, Liara. I've lost friends before. In a way, I think I was lucky, growing up. I don't have anyone to miss back home."

"No," Liara said confidently, "It is better to have friends, to have a family, of whatever kind, than it is to be alone. We live in community. Our names and histories are written in the memories of those close to us. Benezia—my mother is gone, but because I remember her, some part of her remains, as you yourself just said, Commander. Before I joined you, I was alone, but now that I am here, some part of me exists in you, and in all of the _Normandy_'s crew. And some part of you exists in us…in me."

Liara dropped her eyes, and her cheeks darkened to violet. Again Beth was reminded of the children in the different homes she'd lived in growing up. Sometimes, the younger ones, lost and afraid, had sort of…attached to Beth. Like Theo or Caitlin, in the last couple years. They'd seen Beth as a safe place, the only person in the harsh, loud world that had taken the time to give a damn and be decent. And sometimes, if they'd been a little older, they'd confused that feeling, that gratitude and admiration, with other feelings.

Liara didn't know much about humans. She'd been isolated, a solitary academic-type concerned more with Prothean ruins and artifacts than the living for at least a decade, maybe as many as five. Shepard had saved her from a bad situation, and Shepard had pretty much been the only one to trust Liara's word that she wasn't involved with Saren and Benezia when she'd said so. Now here she was again, feeling vulnerable and sad and lost, and here Shepard was, confusing her.

It was wrong, especially when Shepard by no means intended for the asari to care for her in any romantic way. She'd have to address the issue soon. Liara's fascination with her had been getting uncomfortable even before Noveria. Now was perhaps the worst time Shepard could tell Liara that she was barking up the wrong tree, but Shepard realized she also shouldn't stick around and encourage Liara, if she wasn't going to let her down right now just after her mother had died.

She stood. "Maybe the asari philosophies are right. I hope so. Hope I can borrow some of it, anyway. I could've used it once and might have to again. But I'm glad it's helping you now."

"Only a little," Liara confessed. "I miss her. I miss what she was. And even if I am not alone now, I feel alone," she said. She shook a little. One, two, three more tears fell from her eyes, threatening to become a flood.

Beth paused. Something in her twisted at the asari's words, a part of her she'd buried, ignored, done her best to forget even existed. Even with Stace, growing up, she'd kept part of herself back, afraid of hurting her friend. Even with Sean, she'd told him her career meant more, only to lose any chance she had of ever changing her mind. And since, there hadn't been anyone, not even Anderson, the only one she'd admit was something of a friend before she took command of the _Normandy_. There hadn't been anyone she'd let in, anyone she'd had to share herself with, to be herself with. "Me, too," she admitted, very quietly. "I've…almost always felt alone."

And then, voiced, it suddenly became another bad hand, another stupid fight where the odds had been stacked against her from the beginning, and Beth Shepard reacted the way she always did: with defiance. "Liara. We're _not _alone, okay? It feels that way, but we're not. Just…we're not."

"Are you with me, Commander?" Liara didn't look at her, waiting for the answer.

Shepard closed her eyes. She'd asked directly. "Not the way you want me to be, Liara," she said, after a long moment. "But I'm another orphan, just like you. We're in this mission together. And even though it does scare the hell out of me, I can be your friend. That counts for something, right? It's more than I thought I'd give anybody, ever again."

Liara looked at her then. And even though she seemed disappointed, a sort of peace came over her, too, like she was at least glad to know where they stood. "I understand. It will be enough. Thank you, Commander."


	26. Awakening: First Name Terms

**Disclaimer: Joker's Bioware, and again, here game dialogue is interspersed with original dialogue.**

**Section Warnings: Language. **

**Characters/Pairings: Shepard/Joker friendship.**

* * *

Awakening: First Name Terms

In a way, Joker reminded Beth of Theo, the insanely bright kid she'd known the last two years she lived at the Hardins. Theo had probably been a genius, but he was a little…off. Had a learning disability, or was on the autism spectrum or something. He could do amazing things with numbers and music, but people were difficult for him. But he'd taken to Beth. Stace and Meg hadn't come to Beth's graduation. Said they didn't want to be bored to tears. But Theo had gone. Little eleven year old kid sitting all the way in the back, absolutely hating the enormous crowd, stiff as a board. But he'd wanted to be there for Beth, fought past all that with this weird, stubborn bravery. He hadn't even talked to Beth afterwards. But he'd been there.

The annoying thing about Joker was that he was exactly as good of a pilot as he said he was, so when he crowed his brilliance to the skies, no one could ever contradict him, just hate him a little more. He was the best, but he didn't wear his laurels gracefully at all. He used his talent like a weapon against those that might say he was incompetent because of the Vrolik's Syndrome, hit everyone over the head with it. The ironic thing was, Shepard hadn't even known about the disease or thought he was any different from anyone else before he'd mentioned it. She would have never thought to question his competence before he mentioned that despite his disease he could perform his duties better than anyone else, and would never have _wanted_ to question his competence if he hadn't waxed on about his talent and pissed her off.

She didn't question him, though, because he was right. Even if she wanted to chastise him, she couldn't really do so just because he was annoying, when his piloting was perfection and everything was in line in the cockpit. Anyway, because of Theo, she did know how to recognize talent that just didn't work well with people. And it wasn't like Joker was going out in the field. By and large, he didn't have to play nice with others.

As obnoxious as he could be, though, he was slightly less obnoxious with Shepard, especially since she _hadn't _questioned his ability to perform his duties when he told her about his disease. He seemed to like chattering at her when she went up to the cockpit on rounds, and ever since she'd told him she didn't like taking the Normandy from Anderson, every now and then he'd make a clumsy effort to remind her that the crew was behind her. Ask her what her orders were, assure her he was right on the pick-up, or congratulate her on a successful mission just as he congratulated himself yet again on his amazing piloting. It was kind of sweet. As far as Joker could be sweet, anyway.

One day she asked him about the nickname.

He scowled, and Shepard knew she'd hit another sore spot. "It's a lot shorter than saying 'Alliance Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau,'" he said. "Plus, I love to make little children laugh." He bared his teeth in a humorless grin.

"Really, now."

"Look, I didn't pick the name. One of the instructors in flight school used to bug me about never smiling. She started calling me Joker, and it stuck."

"Why didn't you smile?" Shepard asked him.

"Hey, I worked my ass off in flight school, Commander. The world's not going to hand you anything if you go around grinning like an idiot. By the end of the year, I was the best pilot in the Academy, even better than the instructors, and everybody knew it. They'd all got their asses kicked by the sickly kid with the creaky little legs." Now he smiled, a satisfied, predatory smile. "One guess who was smiling at graduation."

"Why do you still use the nickname, if you didn't ask for it? Do you even like it? I mean, that was years ago."

"I haven't been able to ditch it."

"That's not an answer."

Under his hat, Joker looked angry. He was retreating into his box, but Shepard decided not to let him. She leaned against the wall of the cockpit. "My first name's Beth," she said finally. "Did you know that? They never say it on the vids. Even when I use it to introduce myself I'm pretty sure people forget it in three days tops. It's 'Commander' this, and 'Shepard' that, left and right. All so military, you know? And that's fine. I'm a damn good soldier. I earned my rank, and Shepard _is _my surname. But I don't think I've heard someone say my actual first name in years."

It wasn't actually true. Her one-night partners, on lonely nights of shore leave, said 'Beth,' not 'Shepard,' but they didn't mean her when they said it, because they didn't know her. She didn't let them. Finch, too, had said 'Beth,' but he'd meant it as an insult. It was true that Beth hadn't heard her first name spoken by a friend in years.

Joker considered this. "Beth, huh?" he asked, rolling the name around in his mouth. "It's…nice. Pretty. It suits you." He looked up at her, made a face. "That's weird."

"That a pretty name could suit Commander Shepard?" Beth laughed.

Joker shook his head, incredulous that she would find his confusion amusing. "Well, yeah! I mean, you'd think 'Jane,' or 'Ellen,' or…I don't know. Something more like a badass N7, but it's _Beth_, and it's _you._ It's _weird_."

"Well, I was Beth long before I became a badass N7."

"Beth," he repeated, still somewhat surprised. He shot her a glance. "That's okay?"

"Just here," Beth told him. "Over the comm, in front of the crew, it's still Commander, or ma'am. Gotta be professional. But sometimes? It's good to hear your name, Jeff."

Jeff Moreau bent his head to the instruments panel, so it was hard to see that under his hat, he'd smiled.


	27. Awakening: Accidental Flirtation

**Disclaimer: This is a mash-up of game and original dialogue, picked apart and pieced together to form a mosaic of a fanfiction chapter to which I have no legal rights and must here disclaim.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Extremely mild in-narration sexual references.**

**Characters/Pairings: Shepard/Kaidan friendship. Not completely unrequited, but ShepardxKaidan that doesn't go anywhere.**

* * *

Awakening: Accidental Flirtation

Rounds, and Kaidan was itching to say something. "Do you have some time to talk now, Commander?" he asked.

Off-duty, Kaidan tended to hang in the mess. Shepard shrugged, and motioned to a nearby table. She sat, and he sat opposite her. "What's on your mind, Kaidan?"

He hesitated, as if unsure now that it came to the point exactly how he wanted to phrase it. "We've played it pretty close to the books so far," he began finally, "but we're a long way from back-up. We've got some tough calls to make. I'm just saying, try to leave yourself a way out. I've seen what cutting corners can do, and I'd hate that to happen to you, Shepard." He broke off, looked awkward. "Commander," he amended.

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Shepard's fine. I call you Kaidan, don't I? Don't sweat it. What are you trying to say? Are you worried I'll throw the book out going after Saren?"

"As a Spectre, the Council will support you in whatever measures you deem necessary to take Saren down, and so will I," Kaidan said, "But I just think a cautious approach couldn't hurt."

"I am the soul of discretion," Shepard intoned with mock solemnity.

He laughed at himself, then. "Yeah, okay. Like I said, we haven't done anything too risky, yet. I don't think the Council liked it when you crashed that ruin on Therum, or blew up Peak 15, but—"

Now Shepard laughed. "Okay, so we haven't been exactly subtle. It wasn't like circumstances left us much of a choice, either time. But listen, Kaidan. I won't risk lives needlessly, and I won't destroy anything or anyone that doesn't badly need destroying. Rules exist for a reason. I will follow them up and until they are squarely barring me from doing my job, and then and only then will I use Spectre authority to override them. Alright? We good?"

"I'm not trying to question any of your decisions, Commander," Kaidan insisted. "I trust you. I just think we should be careful."

"Okay, Kaidan. Talk to me. Where's this come from?"

Kaidan shifted in his chair. "You know the records about the biotic training out on Jump Zero?" he asked, finally. "They're all classified, because the Alliance made mistakes. After first contact, Conatix was set up to track Element Zero exposures and develop implants for humans. Once we had an embassy on the Citadel, Conatix could bring in experts, instead of taking it slow."

"You'd think they'd want to study biotics independently," Shepard remarked. "I did some work with biotics paperwork for a few months back in 78. They work differently in every species, right? I mean, the different biologies react differently to eezo exposure. Was there some reason they didn't want to figure it out on their own?"

"They didn't know where to start. Hell, it took a couple of years to even link biotics and eezo," Kaidan said, spreading his hands. "Forget trying to get the kids to move stuff, they had trouble just helping them not break their own limbs. And their choice of teachers didn't help much."

"Aliens right after first exposure. Be the only experts they could find, back then."

Kaidan nodded. "Dead on. Turians, actually. That's why Conatix kept it a secret. They were afraid of what people back home would think, asking the turians for help when we'd just fought a war with them."

Shepard frowned. "Why didn't they ask the asari? They're better known for their biotics, anyway. Turian biotics are rare, and they don't really trust them when they manifest. Asari are practically all biotic, and they would've been a hell of a lot more acceptable to the people back home."

"Yes, but the company didn't go through the Citadel. It would have made Earth look weak. So they discreetly hired some turian mercenaries."

"Stupid," Beth muttered. "God, we wave our arms around and demand a louder voice in galactic politics, but we're the ones shutting out interspecies cooperation and alliances at every turn. Don't give a freaking inch and make our friends with the outlaws. So. Who'd they bring in?"

"They brought in an ex-military turian named Commander Vernus. To introduce himself he liked to say, 'I was at the helm of the dreadnaught that killed your father.'" Kaidan put on a gruff impersonation of a turian with sharp bitterness. "Well, I told him my father wasn't in the war. He'd retired to Vancouver. My family had an inland home that matured to new beachfront."

Shepard held up a hand. "Wait. Stop and rewind. You're from Vancouver. No kidding?"

Kaidan blinked. "Yeah. New Point. Why?"

Shepard laughed aloud. "God. You rich son of a bitch. Still, out here, I guess we're neighbors. I spent my entire childhood in East Side."

"East Side?"

"Yeah. Born at South Sixteenth and never lived more than five kilometers away until I enlisted."

"That's a rough part of town."

"You're telling me. Not that you'd know anything about that," Shepard teased, poking Kaidan playfully. "Still. Can't believe I never knew before."

"Me, neither," Kaidan said, half-pleased, half-concerned, it seemed, to find Shepard had spent her childhood on the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak, in a place he'd know was bad. He started to open his mouth to remark on it, but Shepard suddenly decided she didn't want to hear it. She'd made it out, and it was Kaidan's turn for a sob story, not hers.

"Anyway, you were telling me about Vernus the jerkass. Tried to piss you off and you told him it failed, did you? That was…smart."

Kaidan made a face. "Yeah, he had it in for me after that. He cut corners, pushed hard. I mean, you either came out a superman or a wreck." He looked down at the table. "A lot of kids snapped. A few died." He stopped, continued. "The point of all this, I guess, is that when you cut corners, it's not always obvious who pays for it."

Shepard studied the lieutenant's face. "Why are you telling me all this?" she asked. "I've told you that we're playing it by the book until the book doesn't cut it, and even when that happens, I've got ethics. You've said you trust me. So what is this?"

Kaidan shook his head. "I don't know," he said, frustrated. "I guess, I've just learned that if someone is special to you, you help them, try to keep them from making mistakes."

Shepard stilled. She liked Kaidan. She really did. He was consistently reliable, even if he wasn't the heaviest hitter she had available to her. He had a good head on his shoulders, kept cool in a crisis. She could trust his insights, and he knew the ins and outs of the Alliance. And to tell the truth, he was incredibly good looking, with his sculpted features, caramel complexion, and warm brown eyes. Things were easy with Kaidan, and she was coming to depend on him as a sort of second-in-command, even though Pressly was the official XO. If he meant she was special to him as an officer, a friend, there wasn't much of a problem. But she didn't think he did.

"Kaidan…"

"If I'm out of line, just say the word," he said. "I'm just going off of some signals I've been picking up." He watched her, waiting.

Shepard looked down at the table, drummed her fingers. Had she been sending signals? She listened to him, sure. They talked. Sometimes joked around. But she did that with Joker and Ashley, too. Even Garrus, sometimes, now she was getting his measure. The only problem was she wasn't interested in Joker, Ashley, or Garrus. If things were different, if Kaidan Alenko wasn't under her command, on her squad, and they weren't on an extremely dangerous mission, in that parallel universe, she might have been very interested in starting something with him. But he was under her command and on her squad, and they were on an extremely dangerous mission. And Beth Shepard knew all too well how any mission at all could turn deadly, devastating, in an instant.

"I'll take your advice, senior officer to commander and friend to friend," she said slowly. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, and I appreciate any insight you have to offer. And I do enjoy your company, and the view is pretty damn nice, don't get me wrong—"

"But there are regs," Kaidan finished, disappointed. "I understand."

"It's one rule I won't break," Shepard said. "Ever."

Regretfully she looked him over. She thought to herself that if Kaidan didn't just scream 'serious relationship,' that if he was the sort that could compartmentalize, then maybe they could have had a little fun. She would have liked to get to know his body. But he was obviously a long-term kind of guy, and he already couldn't compartmentalize, and she wouldn't use him when she knew right now things would only get messy between them if she did. Never again, she'd said. She would never get emotionally involved with a man on her ship again, but Kaidan didn't screw around. All she had to do was look at him to tell. Which was great. He'd be a lot happier and more fulfilled in the end. But not with her. And that was all he needed to know. He didn't need to know the rest. There was a time for absolute honesty. This wasn't it.

"Probably smart," Kaidan conceded. "I know things can get ugly in the field when you bring relationships into it. Hell, I was the one telling you not to cut corners just now. I guess I can consider myself friend-zoned."

"That okay?" Shepard asked him, hoping very much that it was. She did like Kaidan.

"I'm a big boy, Shepard. I can take it. Friends." He held his hand out, and they shook on it. Shepard felt an odd sense of loss as she did so, but she felt safe, too. Free. And she didn't want to change her mind suddenly and tell Kaidan anything different.

* * *

**A/N: I feel like I have to explain why I touch on this pairing, but don't pick it up. I mean, character-wise, it totally makes sense, and I'll get to that, but I could've written things differently so that Shepard **_**was**_** willing to get into the type of relationship she'd have with Kaidan at this point in the narrative. First I'll explain why I didn't. I like Kaidan a lot. The first Shepard I played did romance Kaidan, and stayed with him all the way through, because I can't even pretend to be the cheating-type. But after Horizon, I just couldn't feel like they'd last. I believed my Shepard loved him. The Kaidan romance-dialogue, even camera angles, were indisputable on that point. But I just couldn't buy that she ever completely trusted him again, or that his love for her was the strong, unconditional commitment that would last. And Shepard's love for Kaidan seems strained, something she can't help and makes her tired, rather than something that she embraces joyfully. The fact is that Kaidan's love for Shepard is contingent upon her remaining up on the pedestal he sets her on. And I just didn't like that, which is a large part of the reason Jena was the first Shepard, but she wasn't **_**my**_** Shepard. **

**In Beth's universe, of course, she can't know at this point that Kaidan will not be what she needs, and her rejection of him is symptomatic not of any foresight and wisdom on her part, but emotional distancing she developed to keep herself safe as a child, and hardened immeasurably after she lost several close friends and Sean Ashton on Akuze. It's not smart, it's not playing by the rules. It's unhealthy. In actuality, she's very compatible with Kaidan, and she knows it, too. She's just not open to love, and knows Kaidan won't sub lust as she's done for the past three years or so with random guys on shore leave. It'll take the realization that she actually cares about people again, past needing them to complete an objective, and something a lot more subtle, a lot harder to recognize as romance at first, before Beth Shepard acts any differently. **

**Regards, **

**LMSharp **


	28. Awakening: At My Six

**Disclaimer: Refer to the Dead Scientists sidequest in ME1 for source material.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Mild Violence.**

**Characters/Pairings: Hackett, Joker, Kaidan, Garrus. Shepard/Joker friendship. Shepard/Kaidan/Garrus friendship, emphasis on Shepard/Garrus with some Shepard/Garrus mentorship.**

* * *

Awakening: At My Six

They'd gone to the Kepler Verge for Garrus. He'd been an enormous help, and he wasn't getting paid for all he'd been doing. Shepard had thought the least she could do was help him track down an escaped criminal. Dr. Saleon had been dealt with, and they were about to leave the cluster and head toward Feros at last, when the message came in from Hackett with Alliance command.

Shepard tapped her fingers on the rail at the galaxy map. Hackett kept sending missions her way. Well, she'd encouraged it before, back when Anderson ran the ship. The two of them had flown all around the galaxy taking care of business for the Alliance, and it had been one of the only things that had kept her sane, early on. Now she had a primary mission, though. An important one. Shepard was almost convinced that the fate of the galaxy might hinge on finding and stopping Saren and the geth, before he found the Conduit and brought back the Reapers. Now, the N-missions were unwanted distractions. The only problem was that even though she was a Spectre now, she hadn't resigned her commission with the Alliance. She did still answer to command.

But this time, Hackett didn't seem to want her to fly somewhere to some horrifically mountainous planet and drive around until she found some obscure outpost with a lot of crazy people that needed talking down or taking out "I've received some information I thought you'd want to know about," he said, sounding grave, almost…concerned. Hackett was a cold fish if ever she'd known one, so Shepard was immediately on high alert. "Someone is killing former Alliance scientists. There have been four deaths in the past month."

"What's the situation, sir?" Shepard asked.

Hackett hesitated. "We found a connection between the former scientists and you," he admitted finally. "They all worked on a classified project several years ago. On Akuze."

And just like that she was Lieutenant Beth Shepard again, reeling from the loss of the 179, talking to the scientists again in 2177, hearing the screams in her head every minute of every hour of every day. Her stomach turned to stone, and her blood ran like ice through her veins. "They told me after Akuze that it was funny that so many solitary thresher maws were there outside of their habitat. They said they'd look into it. Are you telling me that Alliance scientists may have been involved in the attack?" She wanted to shoot something. She wanted to cry. She wanted to vomit. But it was like she'd been petrified.

"I can't get any information on what they were working on. It may have been something completely different," Hackett said. "I can tell you that if these scientists were behind what happened on Akuze, they operated without Alliance approval. Commander, what you do with this is up to you. I just thought you'd want to know. There was one other scientist working on the project, Dr. Wayne. I'm transmitting his last known coordinates to you. Good luck. Fifth Fleet out."

Beth stood there for a long time, staring at the coordinates for a point on Ontarom, in the Newton system, gripping the railing over the galaxy map so tight her hands went numb with loss of circulation. Finally, voice shaking, she said, "Flight Lieutenant?"

"Commander?" came Joker's voice over the comm. Jeff had a very bad habit of eavesdropping on conversations around the ship. Beth knew from his voice he'd been listening in on the transmission from Hackett, and he was worried.

"Set a course for Ontarom."

"You got it. Commander, will you—"

"Just set the course."

* * *

Shepard moved on autopilot. She selected the ground team without much thought. They hit the ground in the Mako. "Commander? Are you alright?" Kaidan asked, as she stepped down hard on the gas. "You look—"he didn't finish.

"What's happened, Shepard?" Garrus asked.

Shepard blinked. She hadn't realized she'd picked Garrus again. Ordinarily she rotated squad members. She must have just called the two names that came out of her mouth first. "There's a scientist here," she said. "Or there might be. Someone's been killing people like him. Hackett said the scientists…they all worked on a classified project five years back. Well. Maybe. Maybe they went rogue. Anyway, the project…it was on Akuze."

Kaidan hissed in a breath. "You going to be alright on this one, Shepard?" he asked.

"Akuze," Garrus said. "That's where..." he trailed off, and looked at Shepard.

"That's where a nest of freaking thresher maws killed my entire unit. Yeah." Beth laughed. It was a mirthless sound, with a slight edge of hysteria. She didn't care. "I don't know if I'll be alright, Kaidan. Depends on what we find. If it turns out this scientist, this Dr. Wayne, was involved in what happened there…I don't know what I'll do."

Beth pressed the pedal even further toward the floor. The Mako rocketed off a hill and came down hard. Kaidan grabbed the oh-shit-handle, wincing at the jolt. "Careful!"

"This is nothing," Beth said. "This is the plains compared to the usual backwaters Hackett sends us to. Don't be such a baby."

"Maybe I wouldn't if you didn't drive like a maniac!"

"You're not the one that's going to have to fix what she does to the undercarriage and the engine," Garrus said grimly. "Shepard, watch it!"

Beth ignored them and drove off another mini-cliff. It really was tiny compared to some of the others. She hit the thrusters, though, to try to minimize the impact. It didn't work. Instead, the thrusters shot them sideways and the Mako bounced off its right side before landing on its wheels again. Garrus hit his head on the ceiling and swore. Beth kept driving. "Isn't far now," she said.

"Shepard—"Kaidan started.

Garrus interrupted. "We're behind you," he said, with a glance at Kaidan. "Whatever happens."

Kaidan looked back at Garrus, then to Shepard, and didn't say anything.

Whoever'd been hunting down the scientists had gotten to Wayne first, with a gang of mercs, and the mercs weren't happy at Shepard's intrusion. Shepard shot her way through them grimly, determined to find the truth. She still wasn't prepared for what was waiting for her.

Wayne was in the back of his outpost, and the merc leader was there. "Stay back!" he yelled at Shepard, training his pistol on Wayne, a small, ferrety looking man in a lab coat. "I've got no grief with you! All I want is this bastard!"

"Please!" Wayne shouted. "He's a madman! Mr. Toombs, you're insane! You need help!"

The merc cocked his pistol. "Shut up!" he cried. "You don't get to lie! You don't—"suddenly, he turned, looked more closely at Shepard. "Shepard? My God, Shepard? Is that you?"

Beth stared. The man in front of her was only twenty-seven years old, but he looked forty, at least. His face was lined and scarred, and he was taut all over, ready to snap. Far, far from the officious young Corporal she'd known years back. But it was him. It was Toombs. "Corporal Toombs!" she breathed. "How…I…you died! You all died! How are you here?"

"They took me, Shepard!" Toombs said, waving his pistol at Wayne. "The scientists!"

"You can't prove any of this!" Wayne snarled. "This man is delusional!"

"See, they were running tests on the thresher maws," Toombs told Beth. "They let those things hit us, just to see what would happen! I woke up in a holding cell. The scientists were delighted I'd survived. Now they had someone to run tests on."

"No, I…I looked," Beth said. "I called, over the radio. I screamed for anyone that could to follow me. And they didn't…they couldn't…everyone went silent. But I went back with more men to look, the next day, and no one had made it. There weren't any survivors. Toombs, if I'd known, if I'd seen you, I would have saved you, I _swear_."

"You can't believe Toombs!" Dr. Wayne snapped. "He doesn't have any proof!" Beth drew her own pistol and trained it on the bastard. It was in his eyes, in his panic. Every word Toombs said was gospel truth, and he was terrified.

"Commander Shepard was there!" Kaidan said. "She knows the truth."

"This man deserves to die, Shepard. For you, for me, for everyone else in the 179! Are you with me?" He looked at her. His finger twitched on the trigger, inviting her to shoot the man responsible for what had happened that night and since with him.

Blood pounded in Shepard's ears. She looked at Wayne, but she was seeing Sean's dismembered arm in front of her, Wright crushed against the ground vehicle, holding Granger as he bled out before the shuttle could arrive. She'd never hated anyone so much in her life as that small weasel, his black eyes bright with fear and anger, his nervous white fingers twitching as he looked from her to Toombs. The cleanliness of his hands belied all the blood that was on them. Not just the 179. The entire colony on Akuze.

Beth's finger tightened on the trigger.

Behind her, Kaidan watched Wayne with an expression of disgust. But Garrus kept his eyes fixed on Beth. The force of his gaze pierced through the noise pounding in her skull. She hesitated, and lowered her pistol. "No," she said, and making the word pass her lips was like trying to move a planet, but she said it. "No. _We_ don't do this, Corporal. We're better than this. We have to be."

"Don't tell me who _I_ am!" Toombs cried. "You got away with a few scratches and a scary reputation. The rest of the unit died, and I was tortured for years, Shepard! You can't judge me! You don't have the right!"

"Do you want them running your life?" Beth demanded. "Doesn't mean a damn that you got out if you let what they did to you dictate your actions now. I'm sorry for what you've been through, Toombs. I'm sorry I couldn't help you then. Help yourself now, and _let it go_. You can't control what they did. You can only control how you respond." She jerked her head at Wayne. "Don't carry this piece of shit with you."

Toombs stared at Wayne, breathing heavily. But finally, he lowered his pistol, too. "Okay. I'm no murderer. They can't make me one. Just as long as he goes to trial. Maybe the screaming will stop now. I don't know."

It echoed in Beth's head even now. "No," she told Toombs. "It won't. But you don't have to let it define you. You can keep going."

Kaidan had moved forward. Gently, he took the pistol from Toombs.

Beth turned, brought up her radio to call Joker. But Dr. Wayne had been looking around wildly. "Oh, no you don't," he muttered. "I'm not going to jail." He took a scalpel from his pocket, ran toward Beth before she could make the call. Beth hadn't been expecting it. She turned, tried to raise her gun, but she knew she wouldn't have time. Then Garrus was there.

He hit Dr. Wayne with the butt of his assault rifle, and the man fell to the floor, insensate. Toombs gave an angry cry and lunged for his own gun, to kill the man that would have killed Shepard, but Garrus knocked him out, too.

Beth stared at him, and brought up the radio. "Flight Lieutenant. Call the Fifth Fleet," she said. "We need a ship for pick-up."

* * *

"I guess I owe you one, Vakarian."

Garrus was under the Mako. He rolled out when he heard Shepard. "I guess so," he said. "You can pay me back by helping to clean up your mess." He gestured at the Mako. "You've got the skill for it. It's really only fair."

Beth smiled slowly, then she rolled up her sleeves, lay down, and got to work.

"I would have shot him," Garrus remarked presently, wrenching a bent stabilizer back into place. "I would have shot Saleon. And he'd just hurt my pride."

"He'd hurt a lot of people," Beth said. "Saleon deserved to die. But not for your pride, and not without a trial. It was the same for Wayne."

"It was a completely different situation," Garrus argued. "Saleon broke the law. But I wanted to kill him because he got away. Wayne was one of the ones responsible for the deaths of your entire unit on Akuze. He'd tortured Toombs for years. I can't imagine what it was like for you, standing there, facing that. I'd have understood if you killed him. I expected you to kill him." He sounded troubled.

Beth reached for Garrus' tools, nearby, and grabbed some wires to replace some broken ones. She started on the wiring. "So did I," she admitted quietly. "I went in there planning to kill him, if it turned out to be true that Wayne had been one of the ones responsible for the maws being there. With Toombs there, hearing what they'd done to him—God, I never even liked Toombs, but he was one of _ours_. And no one, _no one_ deserves what they put him through. I almost killed that bastard. But then I saw you."

Garrus twisted a coupling so violently it broke. Sparks showered down on his armor. He rushed to repair it. Shepard left off her wiring, and turned her head to look at him. "I believe what I told you," she continued. "You can't control the shit morons, cowards, and evil people do. All you can do is control your response. And taking bad out of the galaxy's fine, but putting something good in is better. If I shot Wayne, or let Toombs shoot him, I'd be letting his actions control mine. And maybe he'd die, and that would be fine, but I'd be diving straight back into the dark, and what good would that do the galaxy? And you were watching. What would it do to you?"

"I'd've killed him," Garrus repeated. There was a snarl beneath his two-toned voice "That bastard would've killed you, Shepard, and you saved his life."

"And you saved mine."

"He deserved to die. But what you say goes for me, Shepard. I said I was behind you."

"You're always watching everything, looking out for me in case something goes bad," Beth said. "Don't think I haven't noticed. This isn't the first time you've saved my ass. Just the most noticeable."

Garrus finished repairing the coupling, and brought up his omnitool to start recalibrating the Mako. "I've got your six, Shepard," he said after a moment. "Someone's got to make sure you stick around long enough to take Saren down."

"We'll get him," Shepard promised. "You and me, Vakarian. We got this."

"I know. You're the best I've ever seen, Shepard," Garrus told her. "I want to thank you, for taking me with you. For everything, really." He paused. "It doesn't make sense," he said then. "Hell if I understand it, but I'm glad you didn't kill the son of a bitch."

Beth smiled, and for Garrus, she could be happy that she hadn't killed Wayne, either. Garrus was still rough around the edges, still a damn hothead that needed to learn a thing or five about what taking justice into your own hands did to you, but he was _the_ most versatile, the smartest, fastest man on the squad. He worked well with anyone, saw every centimeter of every battlefield, and Kaidan came close, but Garrus was the only one that followed Shepard every time, tactically speaking. By this time she was completely unsurprised that they'd considered him for Spectre training: he was Spectre material. He was damn good in a fight and had more fire, more potential than Shepard had seen in an age. One day, she thought, he might live up to it, and if she had something to do with that, that'd be something good, alright. Until then, she was just damn glad he was on her side and on her six.


	29. Awakening: In the Med Bay

**Disclaimer: Chakwas is Bioware's, too.**

**Section Warnings: Language.**

**Characters/Pairings: Shepard/Chakwas friendship and quasi-familial.**

* * *

Awakening: In the Med Bay

Shepard grit her teeth and looked determinedly at the corner of the ceiling as Doc Chakwas plied her needle with the degradable stitching, so the medi-gel would heal her wounds without a scar. "I mean, really," Doc Chakwas scolded. "Not that it wasn't heroic, and all that, but did you really have to get in such close quarters to armed hostiles? Two knife wounds, one gunshot, and some shrapnel off a grenade. You should be dead, Commander."

"My shields kept off the worst of it. And it wasn't like I didn't have medi-gel with me," Shepard argued. She hissed as Chakwas poked a particularly bad spot. "Honestly, getting battered by the creepers and Shiala's biotics was worse than the fight with the colonists. I'll be as blue as _she_ is tomorrow. Well, she wasn't blue at the time. She was green. And it wasn't really Shiala, it was the thorian clones of her. Long story. Doesn't matter. I'll be fine, Doc. I've got you."

"I still say you could have been more careful. Do you enjoy giving me extra work?"

"I ran out of gas grenades," Shepard protested. "I couldn't just kill them! They weren't themselves! Doc!"

Chakwas continued to look unimpressed. But as she took up the tweezers to pick out the shrapnel from Shepard's calf, her hands were gentle. It didn't keep Shepard from swearing.

"It's your own fault. I offered you local anesthetic," Chakwas reprimanded her.

"Waste of supplies," Shepard grit out. "It's nothing. Save it for when someone gets really hurt."

"Then save your swearing, if you don't mind."

"Yes, _Mom_," Shepard snapped.

But instead of being offended, Doc Chakwas' pale cheeks turned faintly pink, and the corners of her mouth turned up, but she said, "That's one job I wouldn't want. It's stressful enough being your doctor. I can't imagine being your mother."

"Yeah, well, neither could she." Shepard said lightly. She bit back another swear as Chakwas picked out more shrapnel, and began on the stitching. "Do you have any kids, doc?" she asked. "Any family? Come on. You're poking holes in me. The least you can do is tell me a story."

"I am fixing the holes in you," Chakwas corrected. "No, no family. Not anymore. My parents are gone on to their rest, and I never could seem to settle down enough to start a new one. By the time I fell out of love enough with my boys in blue and their piercing eyes to start looking for something real, it was too late for me." She laughed a little. "Still, I've no regrets, Commander. I have friends. I have my work. And it's good work, and good friends, too."

"Boys in blue, huh? Was there ever one in particular?" Shepard asked, as Chakwas started sewing on the last wound on her forearm.

Chakwas chuckled softly. "His name was Hunter Gregory," she answered. "He was navigation officer on a ship I served on, oh, twenty years ago now. He had the kindest eyes in the world, and he made me laugh. But when he asked, I wasn't ready. I was too passionate about my work. And then he never asked again. He died in a pirate raid three years later."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. As I said, I've no regrets. I've loved, and lost, and worked, and every day I make sure young idiots like you live another day to save the galaxy. It's a good life." Doc Chakwas tied off the last stitch, and putting aside her instruments for sterilization, went to wash her hands before applying the medi-gel. "And what about you, Commander? Are there any unwritten stories in your past?"

Shepard kicked her feet against the edge of the medical table. "I guess everyone has a few," she shrugged. "My life could've taken a lot of different turns. Sometimes I got lucky and avoided the train wrecks. Other times, not so much."

Chakwas paused over the medi-gel configuration and gave Shepard a small, wry smile. "That's a very poetic way to tell me nothing at all, Commander. Come on, out with it. It's your turn. Was there ever one of the boys in blue for you? Someone else, maybe?" She walked over and started spreading the medi-gel over Shepard's wounds. The cool, sticky substance tingled on contact with Shepard's skin, then started to itch as it began repairing the skin.

"Doctor's confidentiality?" Shepard smiled. "Once." She looked down at the floor. "It wouldn't have worked, anyway. I was being reassigned. We agreed it was over, but I…I never had the chance to change my mind."

"What happened?" Chakwas asked.

"Same as your Hunter Gregory. He died. I didn't."

"And since, there hasn't been anyone…?"

"I can't bring myself to, somehow," Beth explained. "I can't see a way around someone getting hurt, doc. It's not like there haven't been chances." Her eyes strayed toward the blinded window. Out in the mess, she knew Kaidan would be watching the med-bay door, waiting for her to come out alright.. He hadn't said anything since she'd told him nothing would happen between them, but she knew he still watched her, hadn't got over it quite yet. Doc Chakwas followed her gaze, and smiled with sad understanding. She liked the Lieutenant, Beth knew. She'd want him to be happy, would be worried that he wasn't.

"Either way, it's a bad deal for somebody," Beth said quietly. "I'm an N7, doc. A Spectre. My career, the mission, will always come first, and any day could be my last. It's not fair to ask anyone to live through that hell, and I won't put myself through it with another combatant, either. Regs exist for a damn good reason. Things get messy when you throw 'em out, and even worse when the shit inevitably hits the fan somewhere." She sighed. "You learn to take comfort and stress relief where you find it, and stop looking for anything else."

Doc Chakwas went back to the sink, and wet a rag. The medi-gel had done its work. Gently, Doc Chakwas wiped off the residue. The stitches had dissolved. There was no trace of Shepard's former wounds. "I suppose," she said. "Is it enough for you, though, Commander?"

Beth looked her right in the eye. "Is it for you? Really, doc. Is it?"

Doc Chakwas handed Shepard her clothes and didn't answer.

"Yeah. That's what I thought," Shepard said. She thrust first one arm, then the other, into her stiff uniform shirt, and began buttoning up. "It's better now than it was," she admitted. "After Akuze, for a long time there wasn't anyone. Forget romance, I didn't let anyone in at all. I mean, there was Anderson, but only 'cause I couldn't shake him. Now, all of you are helping me stop Saren, and things have changed somehow."

Doc Chakwas leaned against the counter, considering. "You've changed since we first began serving together," she agreed. "Before, you did your job, better than anyone on the ship—though I'm sure Joker would disagree—but you seemed…"she searched for the word. "Lost," she decided. "Now, it's like you've come awake, somehow. Started looking around you. You may have begun looking for Saren, but you're finding more than you bargained for, I think."

"Maybe, maybe not," Shepard said. She finished tucking her pants into her boots, and brushed off her front.

"There. Good as new," said the doc.

Beth moved to pin her hair back up, but the doctor moved behind her. "Here. Sit down. Let me," she said. She finger-combed Beth's hair back from her forehead and began to plait and pin sections up. "You have beautiful hair, Commander. It's unusual for a military woman to keep it so long."

Beth chuckled. "My one vanity," she said. "I used to hate it. Wanted to be brunette, to match the rest of me. Even tried to dye it once. Came out awful, and I never tried again. Later, I decided it was the best thing I have going for me, looks-wise. I'm too sharp. Too bony. And God knows I don't have much of a body. So I keep my hair long. It's stupid, but it makes me feel better."

"You don't have to be pretty, Commander," Chakwas said firmly. "You're one of the most powerful women in Alliance military history. You're intelligent, able, and respected." She finished pinning up the last section of Beth's hair. In the mirror, Beth saw it was in one of the complicated styles she usually kept it in. The doctor paid attention. "But even so, Commander," she added, coming back around to the front. "You are an attractive woman. You have an…intensity about you that one doesn't often see. Your own special something. It comes from who you are, and works its way out. We're very proud of you here on the _Normandy_."

She helped Shepard to her feet and straightened her shirt front. "But stay out of my damn med bay," she said, firmly. "Stay safe, Commander. The galaxy needs you."

"Yes, _mom_," Beth grumbled again, half joke, half wish. Because she needed one, and Chakwas needed to hear it. Again the doc turned slightly pink. She picked up a datapad and brandished it at Shepard, faux-chasing her out the med bay. But as Shepard retreated, hands up, Chakwas smiled at her, and Beth smiled back.


	30. Awakening: CO's Foot Soldier

**Disclaimer: Pulls from elements of the Geth Incursions sidequest from ME1.**

**Section Warnings: Language, prior off-page violence.**

**Characters/Pairings: Tali, Garrus, Wrex, Ashley, Kaidan, Liara. Focus is on Garrus/Shepard/Tali friendship, but inferred Garrus/Wrex friendship and Ashley/Tali/Shepard friendship.**

* * *

Awakening: CO's Foot Soldier

Tali stood, flailing her arms around, stammering thanks and apologies. Garrus knelt beside Shepard, pulling up a medi-gel application. Shepard grimaced as the stuff went to work on the gunshot.

"Forget it, Tali," she said from between grit teeth. "Just watch your damn four next time while you're charging the line with that shotgun. I know your people have a thing with the geth, but just be careful."

"You…you saved my life. Again."

"Yeah. Shut up and get the data from the console."

"Right away, Shepard," Tali said, rushing to obey.

"I shouldn't have brought her out here," Shepard muttered to Garrus. "I don't care if it is a three-century old grudge or how good she is with an omnitool and an engine, that kid should not be in the middle of a firefight."

Garrus looked over at Tali, then spoke lowly and quickly, so only Shepard could hear. "You can't protect her forever, Shepard. She'll have to leave eventually, and if you don't use this time to help her while you can, the next time Tali's in a fight she can't handle, it's on you."

Shepard tried to sit before the medi-gel had quite finished its work. She winced, managed it. "The CO's responsible for the development and fitness of the foot-soldier. If she gets promoted before she's ready, the CO takes the heat, too. That's the idea, isn't it?" she paraphrased. "That's what the Hierarchy says."

"Whether or not the Alliance believes that—"

"They do," Shepard interrupted. "To some extent. The idea isn't often executed in law, but it's out there, Garrus."

"Tali has potential. You're underusing her, and you aren't developing it. When she leaves us, the quarians won't keep her off of dangerous missions. She's too good of a combat engineer."

"Yeah, they need to use every resource they've got," Shepard said, remembering separate conversations with both Kaidan and Tali herself. She watched Tali at the console. "They won't care that she can't shoot worth a damn or analyze a combat situation. They need her tech skills."

"You could help her," Garrus said quietly. "If you don't, though, it might get _both_ of you killed. This was too damn close, Shepard."

"You're very sweet," Shepard said, with some sarcasm. She sighed. "And you are also right. Dammit. When did you start calling me on this shit?"

"Wha?" Tali asked, returning. "Are you going to be okay, Shepard? Is there enough medi-gel?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going to be fine, Tali. Protocol still means I have to go see the doc when we get back to the _Normandy_, though. When she gets a hold of me, I may not be so fine anymore."

Garrus helped her to her feet.

"What was on the console?" Shepard asked Tali.

"Data files, mostly," Tali reported. "Defense programs, schematics, networking information. I'll need to sort through it…but Shepard, this could tell us so much about how the geth have evolved and developed over the years. It could help my people understand how the geth have changed, maybe how to beat them. Shepard, this information could be priceless to the flotilla. It could be the key to helping us reclaim our homeworld! If I brought it back…"

"It would be exactly the kind of Pilgrimage gift your people expect of you," Shepard said. She brought up her omnitool. Reluctantly, Tali transferred the files over. "Let's get back to the _Normandy_," Shepard said. "Alliance Command will want to hear the incursions have been stopped."

* * *

Several hours later, Beth found Tali in engineering. "Come with me," she said. She tossed Tali her favorite shotgun.

"Shepard!" Tali cried, fumbling to catch it.

"Safety's on," Shepard said. "Follow me," she repeated.

Tali did, her posture expressing eloquently the confusion her face couldn't.

Joker put them all down on a rock world someplace. Standard habitable planet gravity and atmosphere was all Shepard had asked, and it'd only taken him a couple systems to find it. Wrex helped Garrus set up the targets, bragging about how he could've taken out the last outpost much better, expressing satisfaction that he was finally going to get to shoot something, as if Shepard hadn't just run him on the other outposts yesterday.

Ash checked all the guns, making sure they were all in top condition. Her guns were always pristine and in the best working order, but they were that way because she was so freaking anal about it, so Shepard didn't stop her.

Liara was comparing pistols with Kaidan, discussing caliber and weight and firing rates, and implementation of biotics alongside weaponry. They didn't often get to work together because Shepard rarely wanted such a biotically-heavy team on the ground. She liked things a little more balanced.

"What's this about, Shepard?" Tali asked.

"Training," Shepard said. "Benezia was on Noveria, geth attacked Feros, but Virmire is the first place where we know for sure Saren's been spotted. We have to go in at the top of our game. Unless you want to bail on us."

"Bail on…"

Shepard hit some buttons on her omnitool. "Had to clear it with command, first," she explained, "But they think the quarians have a right to this intel as much as I do. Well, I convinced them that they do. My mission, my neck. I was able to carry my point. The copy's yours. You've got what you wanted. You can go back to the Migrant Fleet, if you want."

Tali scrolled through the data on her omnitool. "Shepard…I can't…I can't thank you enough," she exclaimed, stunned. "This is the best Pilgrimage gift anyone has come back with for…for decades, at least. This could really change things for my people."

"Well?" Shepard asked, waiting. Half of her wanted Tali out of the coming chaos. Half of her wanted her to say she'd stick around. She'd miss the kid in engineering and around the ship. And Garrus was right. She couldn't protect Tali once she'd returned to the flotilla, and the quarians wouldn't give a damn about her safety if they could use her. They proved that much sending their kids out alone in the first place, without so much as a team and the safety of numbers, whatever Kaidan said.

Tali shut off her omnitool. "My people need this," she said. "But you need me, too. My people…I…owe you a great debt, Shepard. One I can never repay. The only thing I can offer you in return is what you already have, my solemn promise to stay with you until Saren and his geth armies are defeated."

"Alright, then," Shepard said. "Then take up arms, soldier. We'll need all hands on deck on Virmire. Tali, I've kept you out of the heavy fighting. You're a first-rate engineer and your help to Adams and with the _Normandy_ has been invaluable. But to be honest, your combat skills need work. So let's get to work."

Shepard nodded to Ash, and Ash came forward. Of the squad, only she and Wrex routinely used Tali's preferred weapon in combat, and for some reason, Shepard thought Ash would be the gentler teacher. "Alright, Tali," she said. "You've got some experience handling a shotgun, but your execution could be better. Here. Show me your grip."

Kaidan and Liara started competing at a target. Wrex started shooting at the native birdlife, grumbling that stationary targets were boring, and he was hungry. Garrus knelt down the line at a different target with his sniper rifle and fired off a shot at the farthest target, out five hundred meters. Shepard brought up her own rifle to look through the scope. Perfect bulls-eye, and one eye had been looking at her.


	31. Awakening: In Between Storms

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Discussion of war casualties, including a game-character. Responsible adult drinking, as well as attempted (but ultimately prevented) less-than responsible use of alcohol. **

**Characters/Pairings: Anderson, Wrex, Kaidan, Garrus, with others in the background. Anderson/Shepard friendship. Discussed Shepard/Ashley/Tali/Liara friendship. Shepard/Kaidan/Wrex/Garrus friendship, with emphasis on Shepard/Wrex, and especially Shepard/Garrus friendship with shades of mentorship. NOT ShepardxGarrus.**

* * *

Awakening: See It Coming

The grief was a hard lump in her throat, choking her words, blocking her air, and every centimeter of her felt as heavy as lead. Her eyes burned because she hadn't slept since Virmire, and hadn't been able to let herself cry yet. The anger was a cold stone in her stomach, but mostly, Shepard was just tired. Really tired, tired to her very bones. Tired in her soul.

For all that, she thought Anderson had it worse right now. Across his shiny new desk, he rubbed his eyes. His knuckles were still bruised from punching out Udina. So was Udina's face. As they sat there in silence, five, seven, twenty new messages popped up red on the console interface. Anderson jabbed his thick, soldier's finger at the dismiss button once, twice, hit it on the third time.

"What the hell was I supposed to say, Anderson?" Shepard asked finally. "Right there, right then, it was you or Udina. Those were the known quantities, and if I didn't say something right then, we'd have ended up with a complete unknown, and who knows what they'd think about the Council, or the Reapers? But I know you, and I know Udina. You'll at least try to do the right thing. With him it's all power and image. I—I'm sorry."

"It's not me, Shepard," Anderson said. "I'm no paper-pusher. I'm no politician."

"I know. Just try…" Shepard broke off. "Just try," she repeated. "_Don't give way_. They're going to try to make this go away, Anderson. _Don't let them_. Sovereign was just the beginning. You can't let them forget. I can trust you?"

"We don't have much," Anderson said. "The wreckage is already being stripped and salvaged. You burned up the Prothean VI and his data stopping Sovereign."

"I know!" Shepard snapped. "I know," she said again, more quietly.

"I'll do what I can, Shepard," Anderson promised, running his hands over his short-shorn scalp. "They can't ignore what's happened here. I'll fight it. We have to be ready when the Reapers return."

"We will be. I'll see to that," Shepard said.

"You may not be able to now," Anderson said. "When I left the Council, they were talking about sending you after the last geth remnants. I'll try to vote against it, but if they're all in favor, my hands are tied. That's the downside of democratic politics. Majority rules. It's not like the military, where if we have sufficient cause we can just go in, to hell with the bureaucrats. As a Spectre, you still answer to the Council."

"The minute I get off the Citadel they'll do everything they can to change my story."

"They won't be able to touch you, Shepard. You're a hero. You saved the Council. You saved the Citadel. There'll be novels, vids. More than there are already. You're invincible."

"Maybe, for a while," Shepard said. "But I also broke the law, went against orders when I left, and only I and my crew were witness to what Saren became, in the end. To all that Sovereign was. Two gaping holes in my rep right there, just waiting for exploitation. Savior or not, they'll use it, if it means they don't have to panic the populace and prepare for a war they can't see coming with their own eyes."

"What the hell just happened, if not a war?"

"Saren," Shepard sighed. "That's how they'll try to sell it. Saren and the geth, and nothing else. Stop it. Don't let it happen."

"I won't. All the people on the Citadel, the soldiers in the battle, they deserve that much."

"So does Ash," Shepard said softly. "I thought she'd make it through anything."

"I'm sorry, Shepard. I know you got close to your squad on this mission."

"They're all leaving now," Shepard said. "Liara's going to try to raise the asari. Tali's going back to the Migrant Fleet. Wrex is finally going back to Tuchanka, to do what he can for the krogan, and Garrus will stay here, to rebuild. The Lieutenant'll stay with me, but I already had the Alliance going in. They mean well, all of them, but it's a mistake, sir. When the Reapers come, we'll need to stick together to stop them. All the Council races, all the galaxy, together, or we've already lost. The _Normandy_ was practically the only damn place in the galaxy we had real intergalactic cooperation working, and now it's over." She sighed. "But I can't stop them."

"We'll figure something out, Shepard. You and me. Me in this damn job. You in the _Normandy._ We'll work things out, and we'll be ready. Somehow." Anderson said. "You haven't let me down yet."

"And you haven't let me down, sir. I guess we'll just see." Shepard sighed again, stood. She shook Anderson's hand across the desk.

"Go back to the ship and get some sleep, Shepard," Anderson said. "I'll be in touch."

Shepard grimaced. "I haven't slept in a long time, sir, and I won't anytime soon. But thanks."

* * *

Parts of the Citadel were still burning as Shepard made her way back to the docks, sending black clouds of smoke up toward the stars. Clean-up crews above were clearing wreckage from Sovereign, and from the twenty-eight human and turian cruisers that had been lost in the battle. Frantic civilians rushed through the streets, shoving pictures of missing loved ones under everyone's noses. They were still digging bodies out of the wards, and many had been burned or blown beyond recognition.

But some of the vendors were up again, and Shepard stopped by one of these on the way and bought a bottle of turian brandy, a jug of ryncol, and a couple of bottles of straight-up Earth Canadian whiskey. Liara had hopped a transport back to asari space three days ago, the day after she'd heard about Shepard's new assignment and told her which way the wind was blowing. Tali had left last night. But Wrex and Garrus were still aboard the _Normandy_, until she shipped out tomorrow morning with only her Alliance crew.

It was damned decent of Liara to try to push their case with the asari Matriarchs, but Shepard really didn't think the disgraced Benezia's crazy young daughter would have much luck convincing the galaxy's consummate diplomats that they ought to prepare for war against the Reapers when Saren was still conveniently around to blame for what had happened, and they'd burned their only hard evidence of a greater threat. The line Liara said the Council would take would probably originate with the salarians, but the asari would give it its shape.

As for Tali, Shepard really didn't blame her. Ash's death had hit the sheltered quarian particularly hard. Despite Ash's mild xenophobia, Tali had always been an exception for her. The two had formed a close friendship, and Tali had been grieving badly when she'd left. She wasn't a soldier, not really. She was just a kid that had got pulled into all this by mistake. She'd fulfilled her promise, and completed her Pilgrimage. The geth data would make her every bit the hero the quarians were expecting Admiral Rael'Zorah's daughter to be upon her return. Shepard couldn't expect more from her. The galaxy certainly hadn't done the quarians any favors. Shepard could only hope that she'd bought Tali a few years to grow up before the Reapers returned, and that what she'd been able to teach Tali in the last couple weeks would do her some good if the flotilla sent her out again.

But God, Shepard missed them both.

The _Normandy_ was still too quiet. The awful quiet after a costly battle. The quiet of grief, loss, shock. Everyone went about their duties a little more slowly. No one looked at the empty post by the lockers below decks, where the Gunnery Chief should be maintaining the guns and running inventory, but wasn't.

Shepard ignored the salutes and went straight to Ash's locker. No one had touched Williams' stuff since Virmire. Before they left port in the morning, Shepard would have to send her effects to her family, with the letter she'd written the day after Virmire, but hadn't been able to make herself send to the patient, faithful woman, the brave, quirky sisters she felt she knew from months of listening to Ash's stories about them. Shepard loved the Williams', like she loved every decent family everywhere for simply being a decent family. She didn't want to break their hearts. But to leave them wondering, not knowing, would be worse. She'd have to send it. But she figured Ash could part with one thing first. They never had celebrated Armistice Day together.

She had the whiskey for later, but it felt right to start with Ash's hard cider. The bottle was contraband on-deck, anyway. Shepard hadn't confiscated it when Ash had first mentioned she had it only because she'd never once seen Williams out of order in any way. If she drank a glass or two responsibly, off-duty, well, she was a good soldier that had been through hell on Eden Prime and run ragged since. Shepard figured Williams deserved a freaking drink now and then.

It was in one of her boots, padded with socks. Clean, fortunately. Ash hadn't ever been a slob. The model Gunnery Chief. Shepard railed in her head again at brass for not promoting Williams. She should've been an Operations Chief, at least. Maybe even received a commission.

Shepard pulled out the bottle, shut the locker, and tossed the bag of brandy and ryncol on the floor. The glass clinked, but didn't break. Wrex and Garrus watched her. Shepard jerked her chin at the bag. "Something to celebrate our last night together, boys."

Slowly, Garrus went up to the bag and opened it. He pulled out the turian brandy, paused when he saw the ryncol, and handed the heavy jug to Wrex.

"Now you're talking, Shepard," Wrex said, popping the cork and drinking straight from the jug.

"No. No talking. Just drink."

Before too long, people came down to join them. Chakwas first, followed by Adams, Pressly, and a few of the rest of the crew. Kaidan was the last. He stayed in the corner, his face stubbly and shadowed with the survivor's guilt. Shepard guessed he hadn't slept since Virmire, either. She tried not to look at him. She'd made the right call that day. Not only was Alenko the senior officer, he'd been with the bomb. If the geth had disarmed it somehow, the entire mission, all those men Kirrahe had already lost, would've been for nothing. But every time Shepard looked at Kaidan she saw Ash. She knew it'd ease up in a few months, but until then, both of them carried their burdens.

It was nothing like a party and everyone knew it. Ash had only been the first of so many people to die fighting Sovereign. Not even the first. Jenkins had been that. There were the military casualties, lost in the space battle, and the civilian casualties, lost before Shepard had arrived on the scene, and after, when Sovereign had blown apart. They numbered in the hundreds. Maybe thousands. No, this was a wake, and the crew treated it like a wake, trickling out when they felt they'd paid their respects.

Shepard stayed, and kept drinking. The world mercifully began to blur after a while, taking everything out of cruel focus. Finally, only Kaidan, Wrex, and Garrus were left. "To Ash," Shepard said at last. For weeks she'd been unable to say Williams' name in front of these people. She'd needed the alcohol, needed the time. They all downed another shot.

"She never was a fan of aliens," Garrus remarked. "But the cargo hold feels…wrong. Empty without her."

"Be empty without you two, now," Kaidan said.

Wrex grunted, and blearily, Shepard focused on her hulking friend. She'd been close to losing him on Virmire, too, close to having to shoot him, for the mission. She'd been so glad when he'd seen reason. She thought it was why he was going back to Tuchanka now, because of what she'd said then. The krogan had let others define them for too long. Wrex had ideas about what they should be, and it was time he acted on them. But she knew it'd be an uphill battle all the way for him, and partially because of what she'd done.

"To you, too, you old brawler," she said unsteadily. "Said I was glad I didn't kill you on Virmire. Never said I was sorry, too. I am. Sorry. The genophage. 'S'not fair. Not right. Someday, if I can…I'll do something. Don't know what. Just…something. I will." Even through the alcoholic haze, Shepard meant the promise.

But Wrex laughed. "You're drunk, Shepard."

"'M'not so drunk I won't remember. I'll remember. I'll do something."

Wrex regarded her out of red eyes yet undimmed by the drink. "Someday we'll see, I guess," he said. He stood then, and clapped Shepard heavily on the back. "Think I'll head out now," he said. "Been fun, Shepard. Kaidan. Garrus. You're alright, for a turian. I'll see you around."

"That's our goodbye," Kaidan observed as he left. "It fits, somehow." He considered the alcohol in his glass. "You're drunk, Commander," he said echoing Wrex. "And if I down this round, I will be, too. Alcohol and sleep meds don't mix, even with a biotic metabolism. And we've got duty tomorrow. I'll get aspirin from Chakwas for you in the morning. Garrus? Let me know before you head out."

"Will do."

Carefully, Kaidan set down his glass. "Take care of her," he said, before he left.

Garrus jerked his head, a human mannerism he'd picked up.

Shepard scowled. "Don't need taking care of," she muttered. "'m fine. 'M fine." She slid down against the Mako, nursing her glass.

"Sure you are," Garrus said, sitting next to her and prying the glass from the fingers that weren't fast enough to resist him just now. Into her other hand he placed something long and thin.

Shepard turned her head. She looked at it for a while before she realized what it was. It was a stick of jerky. She blinked.

"It's levo," Garrus told her. "At least, I think so. I can't remember. Even if it's not, you don't have an allergy."

"Won't do any good, though, if it's dextro," Shepard said.

"Yeah, but it couldn't hurt. And here. Drink this."

He pressed a canteen of water into her other hand. Shepard glared at him. "'m fine," she insisted. "What if I want to get piss-drunk and vomit myself into a coma, huh? What then, Vakarian?"

But she screwed the top off the canteen anyway, and drank, and peeled the wrapper off the jerky. She bit off some. It was levo. "Hate you," she mumbled around the mouthful.

"No, you don't."

"Think you're so damn smart."

"When the reporters come around I'll tell them you taught me everything I know."

He sat there and waited until the food and water and the anti-toxin tech in the armor Shepard was still wearing recalibrated her internal chemistry to semi-normal levels. She hadn't been _that_ drunk.

Shepard looked over at the turian brandy. It was almost untouched. Garrus followed her gaze. "It doesn't really help, Shepard," he said. "To have fun, to unwind, that's one thing. But not when you drink it like this."

"No," she agreed. "But damn it if I wouldn't like to think it'd help, anyway. Damn you, too, for not letting me. You always are doing that. Keep me sharp. But I guess C-Sec'll need you more. There'll be a hell of a crime wave, with the clean-up and the chaos."

"Maybe," Garrus said. "I'm not sure. I feel like I've done more good with you this last year than I've done anywhere else in my life, Shepard."

Now he wasn't watching her six, now she was more or less back on an even keel, Garrus' real conflict showed through. Shepard sighed. "There's always a place for you here on the _Normandy_, Garrus. You know that, right? Screw the rules. We did do good, and I can certainly use you."

Garrus' mandibles twitched, a turian smile. "Screw the rules, Shepard?" he repeated, gently teasing. "Now I know I'm doing the right thing." He paused. "I would've let them die. Everyone in the Council. I didn't believe the Alliance could hold out as long as they did. I didn't think we could do it. But you saved them. The galaxy and the Council. No one can say humans aren't real players in Council space. Not anymore. I can help keep it happening, on the Citadel. Maybe someday, though."

"Someday," Shepard repeated.

Garrus was silent for a long moment. "They should keep you on Citadel, too," he said finally. "The center of information, where you can spread the word about the Reapers, make sure the galaxy knows what's coming. It's not right, sending you after the geth. Too many people have died. Too damn many. That Reaper's in pieces all over the Citadel, and sending you out after the geth…they're going to brush it all off and pin it on the geth, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are," Shepard said, without pulling the punch. "The Reapers are terrifying. They don't know what the hell to do with the Reapers. They've exterminated every other advanced race in the history of ever. How do you prepare for that?"

"Not by sticking your head in the sand and pretending it isn't happening!" Garrus snapped.

"There's no proof, Garrus. Nothing solid. The data from Vigil was all we had, and it burnt out when we used it to beat Sovereign."

"You couldn't have done anything else," Garrus argued. "It was the only way."

"I know."

Shepard hesitated, but knew she had to tell him the rest of it. Garrus, more than anyone, would react against what would likely happen, especially since it'd be his own people that would likely start it. The turians' bitter, wounded pride, striking out against the human that had proved one of their best and brightest a traitor and had to save the Citadel from him. Garrus, the patriot that had staked everything on avenging the honor of the turian race, the hothead that set the pursuit of truth and the administration of justice above everything, the friend that had followed her to hell and back—Garrus would lose it, if she was right.

"Garrus, listen," she said. "When the awe wears off and everybody's left with the clean-up and not a whole lot of ideas about what the hell happened with Saren? It'll get worse. I defied the Council, broke the Spectres' one rule, and I'm the only one pushing this damned inconvenient war with the invisible Reapers. If I'm right, the Council's planning a smear campaign in a couple of months, while I'm away chasing geth and can't defend myself."

"A smear campaign...? Shepard, they can't. You're the hero of the Citadel. You saved all their lives. If they—"

Shepard interrupted. "It'll all be secondary to the panic of the people, the economic crisis, all the shit that goes on preparing for a war. Taking down my credibility is the best way to assure the people that they're safe, that there are no Reapers and will be no war. Better even than saying they're dealing with the geth threat by sending the hero of the Citadel after them."

Garrus' fists clenched. In the quiet of the hold, Shepard actually heard the strain as his jaw tightened. "Everything you've done, everything you've been through," he said, and his voice was a growl, stretched to breaking. "Shepard…they _can't._"

"Garrus. Listen. _It doesn't matter_. _Only the Reapers matter_. On Citadel, you can help Anderson, help everyone. You can make sure they don't forget what happened, brush it all under the rug like that. Make noise. You're good at that. Forget about me. Focus on the big-ass Reaper that crashed into the Citadel. Try to get some tech, some proof."

"It doesn't matter? Shepard—"

"You can't control what they do," Shepard reminded him tiredly.

"'You can only control your response,'" Garrus finished. He relaxed, though the metallic scent he gave off when particularly angry still filled the air between them.

"Control it," Shepard said. "For me. If you're damned set on returning to C-Sec and not continuing with me in the _Normandy_, then do some good there, and don't lose your head, whatever the Council does, _whatever they say about me_. When you have the choice, do the right thing. Even when it feels like hell. You owe it to yourself. Promise."

Garrus looked at the floor. "I'm not like you, Shepard," he said.

"No. You're Garrus freaking Vakarian, epic badass, Reaper-slayer, and the best damn man I had on this squad. You can do this."

Garrus smiled. "You may have helped with the Reaper. Just a little. I can't promise," he said. "If they go after you, Shepard, after everything we did. I need justice, and that won't be it. But I'll try."

"Good enough." Shepard bumped Garrus shoulder with her own, stood. "Well. As Kaidan and you were kind enough to remind me, you bastards, I do have duty tomorrow. You heading out now, or later?"

"I think I'll spend one last night on the old girl," Garrus said, remaining by the Mako. "Hell, my apartment's probably trashed, anyway. Getting hit by an exploding Reaper probably was hell for the neighborhood property values."

Shepard smiled, tipped a little, ironic wave.

"Shepard. If I don't see you tomorrow—"

Beth cut him off. She'd miss Liara, Tali, and Wrex badly. But she could hack it if this was it with them. With Garrus, she couldn't somehow. "Oh, this isn't goodbye, Vakarian. No. I'll see you again. And I'll keep in touch."

He paused. "Yeah?" He tapped his wrist. "I've got your omnitool address."

"And I've got yours."

"So next shore leave, or…sometime—"

"We'll hang out," Beth promised. "I can kick your ass at the shooting range or something."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Shepard? But we both know I'm better."

"You wish." She started walking again.

"Till then, Shepard?" he called after her. "Give 'em hell."

"Always."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, let's talk Shepard and Garrus. This story is eventually going there, true, taking the common and (possibly) canon (depending on your choices) best friends-friends with benefits-lovers in a committed, exclusive relationship trajectory. But I'd like to be very clear.**

**At this point in the narrative, Beth is not attracted to Garrus. She's only ever been with human men, and while she is much more xeno-friendly than the average human and has been since childhood, she's never even been tempted to look for love or even a casual hookup outside of her own species. Garrus doesn't even register to her on a sexual level, though I won't say the same for him. Humans do look a bit like asari, and the entire galaxy is apparently attracted to them. **

**At this point in the narrative, Beth is not even aware Garrus is her best friend, though if someone talked with her about it for a while, she'd probably have to concede that he is, and the rest of the crew definitely knows that Garrus has been the closest to her ever since Kaidan opened up and she rejected him. While Kaidan and Shepard continued to be good friends, some distancing just happened automatically, and Garrus and Shepard just kept getting closer. See Kaidan charging Garrus with looking after a Shepard halfheartedly trying to drink herself into oblivion. **

**Beth knows Garrus is her friend, and a good one she doesn't want to part ways with entirely, though she thinks she's fine never seeing the others again. But she still hasn't let her guard down enough to realize how much she likes him and wants him around. She's not comfortable with that level of vulnerability after Akuze. They only got this close because he was a volunteer for the mission, and Beth knew he'd eventually leave and felt safer letting herself enjoy his company than she did with the others. **

**It'll take some trauma to wake Beth up, and she's got some coming.**

**Cheers!**

**LMSharp**


	32. Resurrection: Spaced

**Disclaimer: See the opening of ME2.**

**Section Warnings: Graphic depiction of death by asphyxiation/burning alive/crushed in atmo. Whatever you think got Shepard first.**

* * *

Resurrection: Spaced

Blown away.

Space isn't made of stars and planets, asteroids and comets. Mostly, space is empty, and black, and cold. Void. Void of matter or gravity or air. Life cannot survive in space.

An object in motion remains in motion with a constant velocity unless acted upon by an external force, but when there are no external forces, it just keeps going. A woman blasted away from a ship into space, away from matter or gravity or air, just keeps going, at the velocity at which she was blasted away. So when she kicks her legs and jackknifes her body and flails her arms, but there's nothing to push against, nothing to pull against, no friction whatsoever, she just. Keeps. Going. Away from the wreckage of the ship and the escape pods, out into space. Spaced.

Nature abhors a vacuum, rushes to fill the emptiness, but a vacuum abhors nature, too. The gas in a severed oxygen line rushes to fill the emptiness of space, but space stretches to snuff out the woman lost in it. Mostly, space is empty, and space is big. In the struggle between the air from the oxygen tank and the vastness of empty space, space wins. The air has a long, long way to go, and it gets too thin for the woman kicking, jackknifing, flailing, traveling at the velocity at which she was blasted back from the wreckage of the ship and the escape pods, out into space, until she is acted upon by an external force.

Acted upon. How cruel, how utterly cruel that this particular woman should ever be so passive, at the mercy of cold, heartless physics. She has never been so helpless, never so inactive before. Always before, she has been the external force that causes the change in the state of matter, never the object of another's action, never the victim. Before the blast hit, she was acting upon another. She saved a man's life. The pilot of the wrecked ship. Her friend. She effected that salvation upon him, caused that change that meant he'd live, and would not die. But now she cannot change her own state.

Space is mostly empty, but it is not entirely empty. It isn't stars and planets, asteroids and comets, but they do exist in it, and exert their own forces on a woman, drowning in emptiness with a severed oxygen line, trying desperately to exert her own force once again and control her fate. But a planet's force, a planet's gravity, is greater than that of one woman, even this very extraordinary one.

A woman, blown away, spaced, now caught in a planet's gravity, no longer drifting. Falling. Falling until she hits the air the planet's pulled around it and it begins to exert its own force upon her, too. Then falling, falling and burning as the gravity pulls her more and more strongly toward the planet below, and her own force against the air, resisting the change, resisting extinction, heats up the gas molecules. No longer drowning in emptiness, but the air is too hot to breathe, and the pressure is such that the woman's lungs can't even inflate as she begins to burn. Her hair catches fire first, inside her helmet. Then the rest.

Maybe she's dead already, maybe she's not, but if she's not, it won't be long. She'll be gone long before she hits the earth and is pulverized, a smear on the ground, bone fragments and blood and pulpy flesh.

Spaced. Then, tragically, not.

In her last conscious moments, her mind a haze of pain and panic, disordered from lack of oxygen, the laws of physics that have made her their plaything, the woman would scream if she could. But she can't. There is no air in her body with which to voice a sound. She can only cry out in her mind, Nonononononono I'm not done yet I don't want to go don't make me nononono I don't want to die. Then the pain, or the pressure, or the lack of oxygen is too much, and she blacks out. Then she is dead.


	33. Resurrection: Trapped

**Disclaimer: Game material from Archangel: Dossier. **

**Section Warnings: Language. Violence. **

**Characters/Pairings: Jacob, Miranda, Archangel (Garrus). Two brief mentions of a Shepard-Archangel crush. NOTE: Shepard-Archangel is NOT ShepardxArchangel OR ShepardxGarrus. One-sided, pre-identity revelation mild legend fascination ONLY.**

* * *

Resurrection: Trapped

Beth Shepard had come back from the dead alone and surrounded by enemies, and not much had changed since then. Sure, she wasn't in a dead base with a bunch of rogue mechs shooting at her anymore, but honestly, the current situation wasn't much better. Screw the outdated title, the shiny new ship, the genuinely urgent mission, Cerberus was a nest of vipers and she was their trophy prisoner, plain and simple. They'd rebuilt her and now they thought they owned her. She'd be damned. If she wasn't damned anyway for being some sort of ungodly zombie person. What made her angry, what really scared her, though, was that for the moment, at least, Shepard didn't see any way out of it. They had her hemmed in tight. She was still alone, surrounded by enemies, for all they claimed to be allies. God, that stupid cliché? You never know what you have till it's gone? It'd been ringing nonstop in her head for days. Funny how dying can lose a person friends.

She'd tried. She'd really tried to get out. Cerberus called her 'Commander' and put her in charge of the ship, so she'd immediately flown it to Citadel and Anderson. Now Shepard suspected that Cerberus had only allowed it because they'd wanted her to know just how alone she was. The smear campaign hadn't even started before she'd died, but it was done now, and coming back to life on a Cerberus ship was the final nail in the coffin. Shepard had heard the smugness dripping from the turian councilor's voice. The official story was that Saren had worked her over, like he'd worked over so many of his followers. The Reapers had been the ravings of a woman at the very least gullible, and quite possibly insane. Now they could paint it that perhaps she'd faked her own death, to join the illegal and human supremacist Cerberus organization. Oh, it was yellow journalistic gold. The only damn reason they'd reinstated her Spectre status instead of executing her was to avoid the—what had Udina called it? The 'political shitstorm' executing her would have caused. Crazy bigot or not, she was still the hero of the Citadel. She'd still saved the Council when she hadn't needed to do so, two years ago. Tarnished antihero, but very public figure nonetheless, the Council couldn't risk killing or imprisoning Shepard. No, if they'd done that, someone might've reopened the files on all those Reaper stories she'd told a couple years back. God, she still couldn't believe it'd been that long. The last thing the Council had wanted was the populace talking about Reapers again. No, better to hustle her off to the Terminus Systems, under the rug, exactly where Cerberus wanted her, where she could take care of all her little human problems with Collectors out of their way and under the radar. Anderson had tried to stop it, but he was beat down. They'd been bullying him for two years, and he'd been just as dismal of a politician as he'd always feared. The rest of the Council discounted his vote when they didn't want it, and when they did, asked for that rat bastard Udina, instead. The Council hadn't lifted a finger to get her out from under Cerberus' thumb, and Anderson hadn't been able to do so.

She didn't have an excuse that would hold water for a deviation from the mission as large as a trip to Alliance command on Earth. She'd had Anderson's email for the trip to Citadel, and she guessed as much of joke as it was, Cerberus had seen a certain utility to it if she was reactivated as a Spectre, but if she suggested flying to Earth to talk to the Alliance, Beth suspected the Illusive Man and that bitch Miranda would show her photos of empty colonies and bury her in paperwork, or the engineers would find something wrong with the ship. All the emails she'd attempted to send to Alliance command came back undeliverable. Again, Shepard suspected Miranda. Anderson might be able to tip the Alliance off, but again, thanks to Shepard's brilliance, he wasn't really Alliance now, either. Cerberus had Beth Shepard, and they were keeping her.

They were locking her out from the old non-Alliance crew, too. Oh, the Illusive Man dangled the possibility that _maybe_ he'd clear Tali _eventually_, but Shepard was pretty sure he was just humoring her. Cerberus had too much history with the flotilla. Like they did with pretty much everybody.

No doubt the Collectors needed to be stopped. Shepard had watched Veetor's footage from Freedom's Progress until she didn't need to play it to see it. Even a person who'd been entirely sane to begin with might've lost it after seeing those Seeker Swarms abduct the entire colony. Poor quarian kid. What the Collectors had done was monstrous, and there were thousands more people from dozens of other colonies that had been abducted as well. The Council had at least confirmed that intel. Who knew what the hell they were doing with all those people?

Shepard was all for stopping the Collectors. Doubly so, if they were in fact working for the Reapers. But she didn't want to do it with Cerberus.

No matter how many oily words the Illusive Man employed, no matter the smiling, clueless crew members he'd handpicked for the shiny new _Normandy_, Miranda Lawson had done her job well, and Beth Shepard's memories and personality were entirely intact. She remembered Kohoku's broken body, the sick things Cerberus had done to people and animals in the name of science. Most of all, she remembered Akuze. After Hackett and Toombs had told her about the scientists there, Shepard had used her N7 and Spectre clearance to do some digging, and found out that the scientists working Akuze hadn't been working for the Alliance at the time. They'd gone rogue before then, and Akuze had been a Cerberus experiment. Beth could hardly walk the deck of the ship without wanting to vomit. Every instinct screamed no way in hell should she be within a kilometer of Cerberus without training something high-powered and deadly on their engineered, terrorist heads, every instinct screamed at her to get clear, _fast_.

But they _had_ her. _They had her_.

Shepard knew she was under constant surveillance. She'd found three bugs in her cabin. EDI was forbidden to share almost any information. Miranda and Kelly had as good as admitted they were feeding regular reports to the Illusive Man, spying on her.

And screw them, they thought resurrecting her and giving her the ship gave them the right. Shepard's gut reaction every day was to tell Miranda she and her boss could go straight to hell, that if she went after the Collectors that was _all_ she'd do for Cerberus, and she'd damn sure do it _her_ way. But every day, she swallowed that gut reaction. Shepard didn't like her odds if she broke away from the Illusive Man's agenda. Miranda would gun her down in a picosecond, just like Wilson, two years' work be damned.

Jacob didn't seem like a bad guy, but if anything, that made him even less trustworthy than Miranda. At least Miranda was up front that she was Cerberus' bitch through and through. Jacob seemed to have his eyes wide open, and he was _still _with Cerberus. So if he wasn't a terrorist, wasn't in line with human supremacy and all of Cerberus' sketch ops, Jacob Taylor was either an idiot that thought he was too smart to be used, or a man whose conscience, however intelligible, was not strong enough to overcome whatever other motivations he had. Shepard really hadn't decided yet, but either way, Jacob wasn't someone on whom she could rely.

The ship's crew were obviously all plants, handpicked to give Shepard a false sense of security, or maybe to make sure she couldn't find out anything. Almost all of them were fresh recruits with no idea about Cerberus or previous operations. It was most evident with Donnelly and Daniels. Those two were such sweet-faced suckers. They were completely oblivious to the nature of the organization. Donnelly wanted to stop the Reapers, bless him, and Daniels was obviously head over heels in love with Donnelly, poor girl. Shepard was supposed to think Cerberus was as innocent as the crew of the _Normandy_, or if she didn't buy that, want to protect the crew. Kelly had probably gone through Shepard's psych profiles and told the Illusive Man it'd work.

Even Chambers probably didn't have access to much beyond crew psych profiles, though. Chambers still bought the line that Cerberus' 'human advancement' didn't translate to 'human dominance,' and anyway, she was far too compassionate to be in deep anywhere. It was why Chambers was onboard instead of some cold-faced higher-up that played mind games in human experiments.

The worst thing about the crew, though, was that Cerberus had recruited Jeff and the doc. Being completely alone in the enemy camp would've been preferable to being the only combatant, saddled with two clueless noncombatants. They weren't Cerberus, not really. They'd joined for Beth, and they'd been chosen for Beth. Two real friends to make her comfortable if she behaved, or to use against her if she didn't. If Shepard made one wrong move, she didn't put it past Cerberus to hurt Jeff and Chakwas. They were hostages, and they didn't even know it. Beth did, every single freaking time she saw them on deck, and it was like a jab to the heart, another shot of fear and worry, another wave of nausea.

Cerberus _had_ her. And there might even be more safeguards against potential rebellion, Shepard thought. EDI might be one. She could have several programs in place to prevent Shepard countermanding Cerberus' objectives. The ship might turn on its CO, if the CO turned on Cerberus. Hell, Miranda might've rigged Shepard herself up to explode if she showed signs of mutiny. Shepard hadn't ruled it out.

In the logs back on that first station, Wilson'd said that Cerberus had spent billions rebuilding her. Jacob had told Shepard that she'd been meat and tubes, and that she might have some extra parts now. Chakwas had verified this. Shepard had extensive cybernetics now. How extensive, neither of them knew. Extensive enough that she'd survived the attempted poisoning at Afterlife earlier. Extensive enough that Chakwas' sleep meds didn't work, when Shepard took them to stop her mind from racing like a rabbit on stims as she wondered what all she had inside her, if her mind was truly her own, what else Cerberus had done to her in the course of the two-year Project Lazarus. Ungodly zombie person, undead abomination, damned Frankenstein's monster. She certainly looked like one.

It was like the Reds. Needing a group she hated, unable to break away. Caught between Nash and the heavies on the one side, the back alleys and streets without any protection on the other, running the obstacle course of trying to stay in the gang without selling her soul or getting a serious rap sheet. Beth hadn't tasted _that_ particular heady cocktail of scared and angry in eleven years. _Thirteen_. God, would she _ever_ get the timing straight?

Still, Beth had run the game then, and she could run it now. Before, it had been a matter of accumulating skill. Now, it was a matter of accumulating allies. The dossiers of the specialists Cerberus had sent her weren't Cerberus people. And no matter how trapped Shepard was on the ship, the specialists wouldn't know that. Cerberus still called her 'Commander,' and on the ground, she ran the missions. Shepard had space, just a little, to make her own decisions, to make her own calls, to maybe set up something here, something there, that wouldn't just help defeat the Collectors, but also might help her get out from under Cerberus. She was alone now. Well, alone with two noncombatants. Surrounded by enemies. Dying had lost her all her friends. But at least Beth had learned to make them before she died.

Shepard would only need a few. Just a few capable people aboard she could trust, outside of Cerberus, and she wouldn't have to be so terrified of the inevitable day when Cerberus told her to do something, and she had to say, "I can't do that." The dossiers were an open door, and Shepard would recruit people under _her_ banner, to stop the Collectors, not to work for Cerberus.

She needed a tech expert. Someone to handle EDI if going rogue triggered the preprogrammed defense system Shepard suspected. She needed a biotic, a really badass one to cope with Miranda and maybe Jacob, though Shepard hadn't actually despaired of talking Taylor around eventually. After all, he'd been Alliance, once. But she'd also need a couple of people that were _really_ good with guns. To take on the Collectors, yes, but also as protection against Cerberus. Insurance against being forced into doing anything unethical on their behalf.

Archangel was going to be the first recruit. Miranda had pushed Mordin Solus, so the salarian scientist could begin work immediately on something that would combat the effect of the Collector's seeker swarms when they inevitably encountered them. But upon landing on Omega, it had become immediately apparent that if they didn't recruit Archangel immediately, they might lose him. A doctor could presumably disinfect and sterilize and keep himself from catching an illness. A pinned-down vigilante with all the mercs in Omega after him, _plus extra_, had a much shorter life expectancy.

Archangel showed _massive_ promise, Shepard thought. In all honesty, she thought she might be a little turned on by all she'd heard about the guy. The way the people on Omega talked about him made him sound like Robin Hood and Batman combined, a freaking _Spectre_-class badass. Tactical strength, a deadly sniper, and by all accounts an unswerving, _fierce_ dedication to justice. Perhaps a little _too_ much dedication to justice. He made himself judge, jury, and executioner over the lawless of Omega with a troubling conviction. As a rule, Shepard didn't approve of vigilantes, but Omega had no order to subvert, and there was no question that Archangel would be a powerful ally against the Collectors, or against Cerberus. If she could convince him to sign on with her.

Word was Archangel was a turian, and if he knew about Cerberus, things might get complicated, considering what Shepard knew about the guy. It might be an issue to convince an alien vigilante to join up with the xenophobic bad guys. She'd have to play it carefully, make sure he knew that this was _her_ operation against the perpetrators of mass-kidnappings in the sector, separated from Cerberus' politics and squarely under her control. Shepard wasn't convinced of this, but she thought that'd be how she'd have to sell it. She hoped that even now the Council was passing her off as a disgraced madwoman, it still meant something that she was the first human Spectre, and that she could set against possible charges of xenophobia that she'd saved an alien Council when she could've let them die. If Archangel didn't write her off straightaway as a zombie. And he hadn't been killed before they got to him.

It had been a simple enough task to sign on with the freelancers the Blood Pack, the Eclipse, and the Blue Suns were throwing at Archangel. Dozens, maybe hundreds of men against this one alone and trapped vigilante, and they were still terrified of him. They had mechs, tunnels, a freaking _gunship_, and Archangel trapped in his hideout, and they still were so stupid, so scared, or so freaking _pissed_ that they thought they needed to hire waves of freelancers to send at him. Personally, Shepard would've just pinned him down until he starved and shot him if he poked his nose out anywhere. Archangel had apparently been boxed in for a few days now. It wouldn't be a long wait. But Archangel did seem to have more of a knack for pissing people off and making them stupid than Shepard had ever seen in her life, and eventually someone _would_ get him. The freelancers crossing the bridge were a good cover to get to him, if Archangel didn't shoot them himself.

Gunfire reverberated through the air, and the freelancers in front of Shepard punched each other in the arms with pale faces, psyching up for their run. Archangel had already killed half a dozen men with more protection at two or three times the distance. Shepard had seen them fall coming in, and she just bet the others had seen something similar.

Shepard looked over at Miranda and Jacob. Jacob's square jaw was hard, his finger already on the trigger of his assault rifle. Miranda's blue eyes were cold as ice as she evaluated the obstacles ahead. Shepard didn't trust them, but getting off the first Cerberus station and Freedom's Progress had at least taught her the two of them were good in a fight.

Shepard took in a deep breath, brought up her shields, gave a single nod, and activated her tactical cloak, disappearing temporarily from sight. She ran into the middle of the freelancers in front of them, lined up a shot, and fired.

The freelancers started firing back at Shepard, Jacob, and Miranda about ten seconds after Shepard had opened fire on them. Way too late, and most of them were as green as that one kid back at the recruiting station. They were cannon fodder. They never had a chance.

Shepard's cloak timed out shortly after the first attack. She swore, vowing inside her head to spend some time in the _Normandy_'s lab upgrading the damn thing, but then a shot hit her hard. Knocked her right back on her ass on the concrete floor. Her shields fried, and she blinked, dazed, before she looked down and realized she wasn't actually wounded. She looked up sharply. A high-powered sniper shot should've done more than that. She hadn't had up any biotic or tech barriers. She should be dead.

"Shepard! You good?" Taylor roared.

Shepard climbed to her feet, grinning. "Concussive round!" she shouted back. "He knows we're on his side! Let's move! There're more up ahead."

"Don't just stand there, then! Come on!" Miranda called.

Shepard started moving.

A couple dead freelancers and across the bridge and they were in his base. The ground floor had a lot of cover, and the bridge was the only way inside the base. Shepard scanned the place, thinking ways to defend it, ways to escape. Could they blow a wall open? Some of the freelancers had had explosives on them.

There was one wide stairway up to a higher level, and that was where they found him.

Archangel was perched up on the balcony, helmed and armored in dark blue. He had a mean looking Mantis, and he held it like an extension of himself. He was still focused on the bridge below. Caught like a rat in a trap, but he still seemed totally in control. This was definitely the guy she wanted. She needed the sort of guy that could have his back against the wall and still have dozens of seasoned mercs running scared.

"Archangel?"

He didn't turn around at first. He stared through the scope of his rifle, fired once. In the distance, Shepard heard the wet sound of a bullet tearing through a merc throat. It was a perfect shot. A _beautiful_ shot. Shepard took a moment to admire his artistry. Yeah, turian or not, she _was_ just a _little_ turned on by this guy, she decided. Excellence was always attractive.

Slowly, Archangel sat up, turned. He lowered his rifle, sat back down, and removed his helmet.

"Shepard. I thought you were dead."

Beth was still caught between the Collector and Cerberus, in the middle of a base surrounded by dozens of hostile mercs with mechs and a gunship (though those weren't working so well, anymore), but the path ahead was suddenly wide open, and Beth had absolutely no fear she'd be able to navigate the obstacles and blow her way right out of the base and all the other traps she was caught in.

Because Archangel was looking down at her with Cipritine colony markings and Garrus Vakarian's silver-blue sniper's eyes, and the most potent relief Beth had ever felt in her life was washing over her like a tidal wave, filling her to the brim with confidence, gratitude, _joy_. Garrus Vakarian! Forget Cerberus, forget the Collectors. They'd shatter the stars.


	34. Resurrection: Bugged

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Descriptions of a violent nature.**

**Characters/Pairings: Jacob, Miranda. Pre-Shepard/Jacob friendship. Jacob/Miranda friendship. Mentioned Shepard/Garrus friendship.**

* * *

Resurrection: Bugged

The sound quality was poor, like maybe the listening device in the armory had been placed under a table a good ways away from Taylor's post, but the two voices that came through were clearly distinguishable.

"I can't believe command missed this." A woman, angry, worried. Miranda. "Bringing in a vigilante from Omega was risky enough, but now he turns out to be Garrus Vakarian? _The_ Garrus Vakarian? You're certain: he'll be fine?"

"That's what the doc says." Jacob. "He's one tough son of a bitch. He's not getting out of a rocket to the face without a scar, but Shepard got him here quick enough. Garrus'll have full functionality."

"He's trouble. I requisitioned files from C-Sec and the Hierarchy as soon as I found out. A history of rebellion against authority, _devoted_ to Shepard, you _saw_ what he did on Omega. Shepard is already looking for a way out: you know she is. With the two of them…I've contacted the Illusive Man but he seems to think this is still a good idea. Dammit, I wish he'd let me implant her."

"You know that's why Shepard's looking for a way out?" Jacob asked, sounding amused. "Relax, Miranda. Shepard's the best. You wanted her, you worked like hell to bring her back. You've got her, and now we have to trust her."

"Trust is something few can afford," Miranda snapped. "I certainly can't."

"I'll tell you this: you mess with Vakarian and you'll lose Shepard for good and she'll probably toss you out the airlock to top it off. You saw her yesterday outside the med bay. I talked to her earlier. She trusts him."

* * *

_"So. Vakarian. Tell me about him," Jacob had said._

_ Shepard was still almost vibrating with the tension she'd had all day yesterday, still quite didn't know what to do with herself now that she knew he was going to be fine. She'd paced up and down the aisle, too full of pent-up energy to stand still. "You'll get to know him yourself, thank God."_

_ "I know. I look forward to it. Guess I wanted to know what you had to say."_

_ Shepard had bared her teeth in a mirthless smile. "Spying, Taylor? You could just look him up on the extranet or requisition his files from Cerberus. I'm sure they managed to score copies from C-Sec or the Hierarchy when they worked on the Lazarus Project. I'll just bet Miranda and Kelly both are feverishly going through 'em all again right now." She hadn't made an effort to hide her disgust at Cerberus. At least she could be straight with Taylor. _

_ Indeed, he had kept his cool. "No doubt. I just wanted to know what you think of him. I prefer the interpersonal approach."_

_ "I've noticed. But I'm not a gossip or a telltale."_

_ "Shepard. We have to work together," Jacob had said. "Sometime, you're going to have to give one of us a chance. I just thought you might want to talk about your friend. No hidden agenda. I don't do that."_

_ Shepard had searched his face. "Maybe not," she'd admitted finally. "You do know that's why _you're_ on this mission, though, right? You and most of the crew? I'm supposed to want to trust you. You think I don't know the Illusive Man's listening? You've got issues with Cerberus? Multiply that by about a dozen. I don't care that they rebuilt me and gave me a fancy ship; Cerberus is all about hidden agendas. Or agendas I'm not about at all. You should know right now I won't play. I'm here to stop the Collectors, because they need to be stopped. Period."_

_ "That was kind of obvious back on Lorek," Jacob had said drily. Shepard had smirked then. On Lorek, she'd managed to sneak some dirty Cerberus intel right to the Alliance. Miranda hadn't caught the upload until too late. She'd been furious. "I can respect your reservations. You've got Miranda on guard, though. She'll be hard to bring around. Friendly warning."_

_ Shepard had considered. She'd wondered if Jacob might be saying he was with her more than Cerberus. She'd nodded then, and leaned up against an armory table. "Noted. I met Garrus last…three years ago. C-Sec detective, and a damn good one. _

_ "He'd been assigned to investigate Saren before I was, even, and he knew Saren was dirty. He just didn't have proof. I did, but the Council wouldn't accept my accusations without more. C-Sec was going to take Garrus off the case. The Council _really_ doesn't like people messing with its Spectres, until it suits them to stop those Spectres causing trouble."_

_ "Personal experience?" Jacob had asked. "They ripped your rep to shreds after you died. Screwed you over good."_

_ "They were working on it before I died." Shepard had grimaced. "God, that's still so weird to say. 'Before I died.' That was _all_ wrapped up in the balance of power and political bullshit. Saving the Citadel, saving the Council's collective asses, it gave humans a lot more power a lot more quickly than most of the galaxy was really comfortable with. Is comfortable with. Now, I'm all for intergalactic cooperation, but most of humanity would rather take a more active role. We're impatient. Angry. Hell, we have an awful lot in common with the _krogan_, except we're smarter and more resourceful. The rest of the galaxy's running scared, and they're not wrong. When I became a Spectre and saved the Council…" she'd trailed off, shrugged. "Just about everyone can use that in some way or other. It's why Cerberus wanted me, after all."_

_ Jacob had held his ground. "You've got a good grasp on the situation."_

_ "Have to. It's up to me to make sure I only get used in the ways I want. Being dead two years has been a bit of a setback."_

_ Jacob had laughed in surprise. "I'll bet."_

_ "Anyway. We weren't talking galactic politics. We can talk why the Council took the line it did, why it's stupid but I can't blame them later. Maybe we'll even talk the line _I'm _taking. One day. We were talking Garrus."_

_ "Garrus."_

_ Shepard had continued, "He asked if he could join me to take down Saren, cut through all that political red tape. Pretty much the same reason you joined Cerberus, Taylor. He knew the score and the Council didn't, so I let him. He quit his _job _to join me, and that was _him,_ not me."_

_ "Pretty dedicated to justice, then."_

_ Shepard had folded her arms. "You saw him on Omega," she'd said simply. "He's smart, brave, and really _hates _bad guys. Good in a team, as a leader or with others, and freaking amazing with a sniper rifle or assault gun. He could've been a Spectre, but turned it down He was the best damn member of my squad in '83, and if I had to pick one of my old team to have my back in this mess, I'd have picked Garrus in a heartbeat."_

_ The information hadn't been volunteered in the friendly spirit Jacob had asked for it. Shepard had used her words as weapons, aimed at Jacob and at Cerberus in general. Jacob had caught the tone. He'd held up his hands, chuckling. "Don't mess with Vakarian. More of a badass than I could ever hope to be. I get it."_

_ Shepard had looked at him, then chuckled herself, giving up. "Okay, okay. _Not_ that it isn't true." She'd looked out the armory, thinking of the med bay on the deck below. "I trust him, Taylor," she had said quietly. "And I'm _damn _glad he's here. He saved my ass a few times that year. Was in the ground team that helped me take out Sovereign, in the end. He's a little…sometimes I worry about him. And not just 'cause he took a rocket to the face. That Archangel thing on Omega? Garrus doesn't care _how _the bad guy gets his, so long as he does. It's something we don't share. We've butted heads on that on occasion. I never thought he'd go that far, though. He's…he must've been really _pissed_." She'd paused. "And what happened on Omega, that'll have changed him, too. I mean, you heard. They took out his entire team. I…I've been there. It's not…not pretty."_

_ "He's your friend," Jacob had said simply._

_ Beth hadn't been able to look at him, then. It was like a cold wind passed through her, and she'd hugged her arms around herself. "He's a great addition to the team," she'd said. "Anyway. I should go."_

* * *

It'd been a mistake to talk to Taylor. Not only was he turning right around and talking to Miranda, he was more observant than Shepard had given him credit for, and he'd seen more than she'd wanted him to see. His voice was urgent as he continued. "It's more than that. Shepard _died._ Vakarian is about the only damn friend she's got left in the galaxy. She cares about him. A lot. You touch that? I don't know what she'll do."

"She talked with you? Why? She could've come to me."

"Maybe because I asked her, instead of going straight for Vakarian's files."

There was a pause, then Shepard heard Miranda's voice again, softer now. "I liked her better on the slab. I don't know what to _do_ with her now she's up, Jacob. She…she's everything I thought she'd be, that I told the Illusive Man she was. I didn't anticipate how I'd handle that without the control chip. She's not an Unknown. I know exactly how she'll handle any situation. But I can't stop her. She'll stop the Collectors. But she's not Cerberus, Jacob."

"She's not. Maybe that's a good thing. Just…try, Miranda. I get the feeling she'll meet us halfway, if we do."

Miranda barked a laugh. "Do you? I get the feeling she'll drag us in completely new directions. She'll _own_ us, Jacob. She's already started on you."

Beth shut off the stream, suddenly feeling dirty. This was wrong. Fixing the email routing was one thing. That was defending herself. But listening in to private conversations, even if they were about her, made her no better than Cerberus.

Shepard had broken into Miranda's office while Miranda went on her own rounds of the ship. She still didn't trust Shepard to manage them properly, even though she'd brought back Shepard specifically because Shepard did know how to manage a crew. Miranda's rounds were pretty much the only time she was both out of her office and out of sight of it, as the mess was just outside her door. Miranda even slept in the back of her office. It had taken Shepard a week to clock Miranda's extremely precise schedule and plan her break-in. She'd done it this afternoon because it was a damn sight better than going to the med bay like a decent friend. Chakwas was sure Garrus would be fine at this point, and he'd even taken a trip to the comm room this morning for a mission briefing, but Chakwas was still insisting he stay in the med bay and off-duty for at least another week. And visiting him there, with the enormous bandage on the entire right side of his head, remembering just how close it had been, did funny things to Shepard. It was unpleasant.

It hadn't taken Shepard long to hack Miranda's console and set up a neat little program that would send her mail out five seconds before Miranda could see what she'd written, and put her emails through five seconds before Miranda could read them and stop them getting to her inbox, and to add a little mini-virus that would screen the change. She hadn't wanted to simply block Miranda's access to her mail, because that would have been as good as sending up a flare that she'd been in here. Miranda wouldn't have been able to access Shepard's stuff anymore, but the report would've gone straight to the Illusive Man that Shepard had something to hide.

She'd had some time, so she'd poked around the surveillance files. She'd been surprised and disappointed to find that Miranda merely had a few snippets of audio and video footage from around the ship, sent her way to analyze by EDI. All the information went to EDI first. Shepard couldn't hack EDI. The AI was built for cyber-defense.

That was when the file from the Armory had come up. _Armory—Active, _with a little green light. The computer had asked her whether or not she wanted to stream audio, and Shepard had considered it an excellent opportunity to get some intel on Miranda and Jacob.

Now, though, Shepard regretted it. She locked Miranda's computer, slipped out of the office, and locked the door behind her. She walked aimlessly, and guilt gnawed at her stomach like a worm.

Maybe Taylor was talking, but he liked Miranda and Shepard had known that when she'd talked to him. He'd worried about Miranda enough in the base. Those two had worked together for a long time. But this morning and just now, Taylor'd pulled for cooperation. He wasn't just asking Shepard to trust him and Miranda, he trusted Shepard and was asking Miranda to trust her, too. Shepard wasn't sure if she trusted Taylor just yet, but maybe…maybe one day she'd be able to trust him.

As for Miranda…Shepard didn't know what to think. It was like the galaxy had tilted on its axis a little, realizing just how terrified Miranda Lawson was of her. Miranda had seemed so damn unflappable, so cold and in charge. But apparently, Miranda respected Shepard's abilities so much that they made Ms. Genetically Perfect herself feel inferior and out of control. Miranda thought that Shepard could convince her to go places and do things she wouldn't normally. And it scared her to death. If that was Miranda's honest self-evaluation to someone she trusted, Shepard was almost positive that she wasn't nearly as powerless as it seemed. Power was all about confidence, and Miranda didn't have confidence in herself, she had confidence in Shepard. That meant that however reluctant she was now, Shepard would probably be able to talk her around eventually.

Beth knew she shouldn't know that, though. Miranda's fear was something Shepard should never have heard, and worse, it was disconcertingly familiar. Beth knew that terror of vulnerability, of loss of control, of giving her trust and confidence to someone that could drag her way beyond her comfort zone and then fail, leaving her alone, abandoned, defenseless in a place she had never intended to go. No, Beth knew Miranda's surprising insecurities all too intimately, and it turned the woman she had before seen as an enemy, or at the very least an awe-inspiring ice statue of competence and confidence into someone she felt she understood, someone with whom she almost had to sympathize.

"Crap," she muttered.

She stopped, looked up, and found herself facing the med bay door. Guilt gave way to fear. She had her own insecurities. Her stomach churned as once again she remembered the wide pool of shining blue blood beneath a face blown half to hell. Jacob and Miranda had somehow been able to follow her orders, even though they couldn't have been coherent. She remembered feeling frozen, somehow detached from the situation as her mouth ran a stream of desperate pleas and garbled orders and invective, and maybe her eyes ran, too. She didn't remember. She remembered yesterday, though. Too much of a damn coward to go into the med bay, unable to leave the mess, just staring at Chakwas' door and the blinded window, feeling like she'd just found her right arm again, only for it to be blown off by a rocket. There was a reason she'd kept her distance from the troops since Akuze, a reason she'd gone it alone until '83, and she'd been violently, horribly reminded of it on Omega.

Beth shivered. But it was no good. Now she knew that Miranda didn't have to be her enemy, she was going to have to make her an ally. If she made Miranda an ally, she was going to have to ask the woman to trust her, to overcome her fear of losing control, let go, and follow. Asking Miranda to do that would be the worst kind of hypocrisy if Shepard couldn't even force herself to walk through the med bay door and visit her injured friend.

Beth Shepard squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and opened the door.


	35. Resurrection: On Horizon

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Language.**

**Characters/Pairings: Garrus. Shepard/Garrus friendship. Some Shepard-Garrus attraction.**

* * *

Resurrection: On Horizon

Shepard's fist hit the punching bag with another satisfying smack, and another long, wispy blonde curl fell out of her already messy bun and into her face. A bead of sweat dripped off it into her eyes. It stung, but Shepard ignored it. She shut out everything, everything but the working muscle groups. She'd been at this for hours, but she still wasn't aching, because of Cerberus' stupid cybernetics. The scars were starting to heal, but Beth still felt like a freaking Frankenstein's monster. She could fight for hours without breaking down, but she couldn't get piss-drunk. Not for more than a few minutes, anyway. Then her body's chemistry adjusted automatically, and she was _fine_. Shepard kicked out again and felt her foot connect. Once upon a time, by this point, she would have been bone tired and too sore to move. She wanted that again so badly it hurt.

Shepard fell face-first to the floor and caught herself on her hands. She did five pushups. Ten. Fifty. So many she lost count, and then she was up and at the punching bag again. Her knuckles were red, but she knew they should be blue and green, swollen, split and bleeding from all the abuse.

"Shepard."

A voice. Shepard ignored it.

"_Shepard!_"

"What?" Beth snapped. Her voice sounded like a broken string.

"You've been down here for hours. You haven't eaten all day. You're scaring everyone down here in engineering. Grunt says you're in a blood rage. Jack's worried. _Jack_. Says you've lost your shit. I'm inclined to believe her."

"Well, screw them! And screw you, too! Just…" Beth swung at the punching bag again, missed, fell with the force of her own momentum. Strong talons caught her wrist before she hit the ground. She wrenched free of Garrus' grip and pushed her hair back from her face angrily and glared.

One, two, three seconds. Beth had known the second she was back onboard the ship that if she stood still for that long she'd break down. She'd been fighting it all day. Now she couldn't. Beth collapsed, and slid down against the wall by the shuttle. She bit her tongue so hard the blood came, metallic in her mouth, an old habit from childhood she hadn't needed for years, but now it was the only thing keeping her from sobbing. She couldn't keep from shaking, though.

"Damn you, Vakarian! Damn you!" she said, voice strangled, punching weakly out at Garrus. He was still standing. The blow didn't even come close to landing. "I was handling it. I was _fine_. Why'd they go to you, huh? Why'd you have to come? Don't answer that. You always pull this shit, and it doesn't suit you. I _don't need you_. I'm fine. I'm _fine_."

"If you're fine, that's the best imitation of messed up I've ever seen. Shepard. Talk to me."

Shepard scrubbed at her face with her hands and groaned. "Garrus, they took half that colony," she mumbled from behind her hands. "We were there, and they took half that colony. We were supposed to stop it. We're supposed to be better. _I'm_ supposed to be better. I'm Commander Fucking Shepard. Some job of it I did." She shook her head. "Not one more. You hear me? Not _one more_."

Beside her, he chuffed softly as he sat next to her, just like old times against the Mako. "We were late to the scene, Shepard. You can't blame yourself for that. Next time we'll get them. We're getting ready, and when we have all we need, we'll take those bastards down."

Beth massaged her temples. "We better. They're pissing me off. You know why they picked Horizon, don't you? You know why they went there."

Garrus nodded. "Kaidan. They're working for the Reapers, Shepard. I think you've pissed the Reapers off, too, if it makes you feel any better."

Beth snorted. "Yeah. Not much. All those people, Garrus!"

"And Kaidan?" Garrus prompted. Not for the first time, Beth wished that Garrus was just a little stupider. She shook her head.

"Mind your own damn business." Garrus raised his hands, and started to rise. Shepard grimaced, and cracked. "I shouldn't blame him," she said. "If it had been him dying, staying dead two years, then coming back Cerberus and wanting to be friends again…" she laughed grimly. "Forget telling him where to stick it, I might've shot him. I know what Cerberus is. I know what this looks like. He has no reason to believe this is on the level, no reason to trust me. The Alliance deserves his loyalty—"

"—So do you," Garrus interrupted, fiercely.

Beth looked up at him sideways. "Do I? Garrus, I don't even know what I _am_. I don't know what all Cerberus has done to me, but I'm not the person I was two years ago. I don't even know if I qualify as _human_ anymore, all the stuff they put in me. For all I know I'm something like…like EDI." She winced. "No. That wasn't fair. I actually like the damned AI. It's not her fault. She tries so hard, too. _I'm _something like…like those husks.

"Shepard. Shut up. You're you. Maybe with a little extra. But you're you. Stubborn as hell, and just a _little_ crazy." He smiled. "I'm pretty sure husks don't spend time worrying about their humanity…or lack thereof, I guess And I don't think our resident baby krogan and psychopath would waste time worrying about a husk. More likely just blow it up. Anyway, I think I could tell if you weren't you. You see some strange things on Omega."

It was like Garrus had reached right into her ribcage and _squeezed_. Beth hissed in a breath, and bit her tongue again to keep from crying. The best part was, it wasn't just what she wanted to hear, because Garrus didn't do that. Ever. Beth wrapped her arms around herself tight.

"I _do_ blame him, Garrus," she confessed. "I understand why things went down the way they did. I do. I would've done the same thing. Probably wouldn't have been as nice about it. But I blame him anyway. And it _hurts_, and _God_, we could've used him."

"Kaidan's an idiot," Garrus said. "But he was pretty messed up when you died. I guess we all handled it differently."

"Yeah. You left C-Sec, went to Omega, and started shooting people."

"Well, we all saw how well that turned out."

Beth immediately felt remorseful. She turned to Garrus. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay."

"No. You've been through enough. I promised myself I wouldn't say anything. And it's over now, anyway. It's done."

"Not until I kill Sidonis. I'm close, Shepard. And when the time comes…"

There was an edge to his tone Beth didn't like. The lust for revenge, the blood-thirst, wasn't the Garrus she knew. She shifted, but couldn't figure out how to voice her worries. "We'll handle it." She very carefully avoided saying how. She didn't know what she'd do, when the time came. But she'd be damned if she'd watch her friend dive right back into the dark, now she'd found him and fished him out of it.

Garrus was still thinking about her implicit lecture. "It played out exactly like you'd said, Shepard," he said quietly. "But you were dead, and when they started tearing down all we'd seen, all you'd said, I couldn't—I had to do something. I thought on Omega, I might make a difference. But I didn't even make a dent in the place."

Shepard tried to fix it. "You made yourself a name," she offered feebly. "Pissed a hell of a lot of people off. You've got talent, Vakarian. And you took an awful lot of bad off that station."

"But I didn't put a lot of good back in its place," Garrus answered, paraphrasing something Shepard had told him a couple of times. He couldn't look at her. "And I lost what good I found."

Shepard couldn't think what to say to him, but the silence was an answer in itself. Beside her, Garrus seemed to collapse into himself a little, and Shepard sighed. In the absence of just the right words, she leaned against him, and even though she probably still smelled sweaty and awful, he didn't push her away. "Garrus, if you were somebody else I could lie to you," she murmured. "Make you feel better about your mistakes, or feel like I have all the answers."

"I think I know you a little too well than to think _that_, Shepard," Garrus said. She felt his voice rumbling in his chest even through his hardsuit.

"Yeah, you wouldn't fall for it if I tried, and I respect you too much, anyway. Garrus—I—you made mistakes. And I know it hurts like hell. But—I—shit, I don't know. I'm sorry, I guess. But we're okay. You know that, right? I'm just glad you didn't get yourself killed, too."

"I gave it my best shot," Garrus joked.

"Don't even!" Beth warned him sharply.

They sat there for a moment, and then Garrus looked down at her. "What was all that earlier? Some shit I always pull that doesn't suit me?"

Beth sat up. Wary of Garrus' ever-present visor, just in case he'd left it in target mode and her vitals were onscreen, she was careful to breathe as normally as possible, stare as levelly as she could at the wall opposite. If she looked at him she knew her blood flow would do all sorts of pyrotechnics that he'd be able to see even without the damn thing. She reflected she probably should leave Garrus shipside the next few missions. She just hated doing without his support groundside. He was the only squad member she had that reliably saw everything she did on a battlefield, and sometimes even things she missed. She never had to worry about him, didn't even have to bother with orders very often. But she needed space. And time.

"Nothing," she said. "Just routine word-vomit."

"What a vivid metaphor," Garrus said drily. Shepard grinned, but then he added, "But I thought you said you didn't lie to me."

"It was nothing!" Shepard insisted. "It's just, you know—you always try to pull the white-hat hero shtick whenever I just need ten minutes to sort things out. It's annoying! The whole turian rebel thing works much better for you, anyway, and it doesn't force me to play damsel in distress!"

Garrus laughed incredulously. "Damsel in distress? Shepard, no one in their right mind would _ever _confuse you with a damsel in distress. But you can't be a spirit of war and strength incarnate all the time. Sometimes it's okay to borrow strength from your unit. It won't kill you."

"You'd be surprised," Shepard muttered. "Just next time, leave me alone, okay?"

"Shepard. I've got your damn six," Garrus said firmly. "It's one thing I can do right. Even if it means sometimes I'm keeping you from shooting yourself down."

Beth gave up. She pushed him, a little harder than was strictly playful, but not angrily. "You do a lot of things right, Vakarian," she growled. "More than most people." She decided to change the subject. "The Illusive Man's cleared Tali for recruitment, Garrus."

"Tali? It'll be good to have her back on the _Normandy_. Just like old times."

"If she comes," Shepard qualified. "I ran into her on Freedom's Progress. The quarians have problems with Cerberus. Just like everybody. And she was busy at the time…but…she still trusts me. And she knows what we're up against. But I didn't think Cerberus would let me pick up any of the old crew."

"And what am I, then? Nobody?" Garrus joked.

Shepard laughed. "You don't even know, do you? _You_ were a hell-outta-nowhere accident, _Archangel_. I went to recruit the vigilante. Just got damn lucky _he_ turned out to be _you_. God, Miranda was _pissed_! She was sure you and me were going to team up to take all of Cerberus out straight out the gate, and she knew we could do it, too."

"Might be something to add to our to-do list," Garrus mused. "If we survive, that is."

"_If_ we survive. Think Tali will help?"

"It'd be a service to the galaxy. But even if Tali isn't down for some Cerberus destruction, Jack will _definitely_ help."

Shepard could see it in her mind's eye, and she chuckled, darkly amused. "Help? We'd be sitting back watching the show, Garrus."

"Seriously, though, Shepard. Do you want to go after them?"

Shepard sighed. "I don't know. I can't imagine getting along with Cerberus for long. The shit we saw on the SR1? I think it's only a matter of time before Cerberus gives me an order I won't be able to follow, and then we may have to deal with them, before they deal with us."

"You know, turians follow bad orders," Garrus remarked. "Well. Good turians do. I've never been what you could call a good turian, though. You're different, though, Shepard."

"No, not really," Shepard said. "I mutinied against the Council to go to Ilos, remember? Mostly I've been fortunate enough to have been given good orders that make sense. But when I'm not? I'll do the right thing. Cerberus aren't often into the right thing. But on the other hand?"

Garrus followed her immediately. "The Reapers."

Shepard nodded. "The Collectors, as bad as they are, aren't the real threat. If we survive this, and Cerberus is willing to help me fight the Reapers? I don't know. They're the only ones in the galaxy that seem to be taking the Reapers seriously. I may have to take what I can get, at least to start."

"But first we have to take care of the Collectors. Through the Omega-4 relay, that no one's ever survived." Garrus spoke sarcastically, but without bitterness. Just mentioning the impossibility of their mission, ready to take it on nevertheless.

"Straight into hell," Shepard confirmed, rolling her shoulders back. "But Garrus, we have to be better. Smarter. Faster. It's a suicide run, but it damn well better not be pointless."

"Whatever happens, I'm with you," Garrus promised.

"On my damn six, whether I like it or not," Shepard said.

"You got it."

Groaning, Shepard stood. She held out her hand to pull Garrus to his feet, too. "I better go tell Jack and Grunt the Commander's not going to explode any time soon."

"Shame. They'd enjoy the fireworks."

"Sweet they were worried," Shepard remarked.

"I should probably go check the Thanix again," Garrus said.

"See you later."

"You know where to find me if you need anything."


	36. Resurrection: Letting Go

**Disclaimer: Much of the dialogue is from the ME2 Subject Zero mission and its aftermath. Rights to Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Strong Language, Mild Violence.**

**Characters/Pairings: Jack, Garrus. Shepard/Jack friendship.**

* * *

Resurrection: Letting Go

Jack trained her pistol on Aresh's head. Aresh wasn't even flinching. It was like it didn't even register. The scrubby, dark little man just stared at Jack's face, eyes glassy, still seeing Subject Zero as she'd been all those years ago. "I stopped it, all of it!" Jack snapped. "Maybe the others did have it bad, but what you're doing is just messed!"

"Everything we went through must have been worth something!" The words tore from Aresh's throat, a growl, an oath, a prayer. The man was obsessed, insane, unreachable in a way Jack hadn't been, so far, but this is where she'd come from, this was who she'd been. This was Jack's past and her present, and what happened here would define her future. It was Jack's Ontarom, and depending on how things fell out, Shepard could save her here or lose her forever.

"We've got your bomb," Shepard said levelly. "We can blow this place, but that still leaves him. What are you going to do, Jack?"

"That's easy," Jack snarled. She cocked her pistol.

"Just leave me here," Aresh said. "This is where I belong."

"Fuck that!" Biotically, Jack shoved Aresh to his knees. Now he got it. He started to tremble. But Garrus, holding the post by the door, kept his eyes on Shepard.

Beth stepped forward. "Dead or alive, Jack, he's always going to be here. That going to be you, too?" Jack paused. She looked up at Shepard, eyes glinting angrily, haunted by the cell, by the whole place, by everything that had been done to her.

"He wants to restart this place. He needs to die!"

"And how the hell is he going to do that, huh? We killed his mercs and they weren't satisfied anymore, anyway. He's obviously insane. He's never going to restart this facility. You don't have to kill him." Jack's hand shook, and her arm lowered a couple centimeters.

"You listen to me," Beth said. "Everyone has their own shit to sort through. You more than most. Fine. That's not fair, and it sucks. I get it. But in the end, you've got to make the same choice everyone else in the galaxy makes, Jack: will you take charge, or will you continue to let your past own you? You keep looking for all the assholes that experimented on you, used you, that's all you're _ever_ going to find, and you won't _ever_ see what's really in front of you." Shepard gestured at Aresh, and Jack looked again at the shaking man, obsessed with their shared past, the abuse he'd undergone. She swallowed.

She was getting through to her. Beth continued, relentless. "You keep reacting to the past and blowing this place to hell won't do _shit_: you will _always_ be here, just like this bastard. You've got a chance for something better, to screw them all over and be your own person, be the one you wish you'd known then."

"I never saw—"Jack started angrily.

"Don't tell me you never!" Beth retorted. "You know what's right. It doesn't matter that you've never seen it; you're so damn angry because you _know_ how you _should've_ been treated, how the galaxy _should _work. So you weren't. Fuck that! _Be_ what you wanted to see! You're strong, smart, _so_ much better than you've been. Choose now: who are you going to be? Do you have the balls to let go, or not?"

Now Shepard stepped back and folded her arms. She waited.

Jack closed her eyes tight for half a second. "Fuck!" she swore. She lowered her pistol, waved it at Aresh, who was looking at Shepard now like she'd sprouted three heads. "Get out of here. Go!"

Aresh looked back at Jack, looked at Shepard. Then he jumped up and bolted.

Shepard nodded once. Jack breathed out shakily. She wasn't sure she'd done the right thing. But already, she stood a little straighter, a little less like she was carrying the weight of a planet on her thin, scarred shoulders. But from the doorway, the disapproval rolling off Garrus was almost tangible. Not that Shepard had convinced Jack to spare Aresh. He was an innocent, a victim. But the reasoning behind what she'd said. It had landed a little too close to home for him. Nevertheless, he started to help Shepard prime the explosives.

* * *

Jack was on her cot staring at the grating above when Shepard came down the stairs into her little hold. It was the most relaxed Beth had ever seen her. For the first time since Shepard had requisitioned clothes for her, way back when she first came aboard, Jack was wearing a set, instead of the obscenely stripped down prison uniform she'd worn in Purgatory.

Jack didn't sit up, but she addressed Shepard. "So. What's your shit?"

Beth didn't pretend to misunderstand. She swung herself up onto a crate a respectable distance away from Jack, respecting the young woman's boundaries. "Doesn't matter," she said. "I had to move past it, same as anyone."

Jack thought about this, and let it be. "Did you mean all that stuff you said back there?" she asked. Her voice was smaller, almost childlike. "That I can—shit, I'm no good at this—"

Beth took pity on her. "Yes," she interrupted. "I meant it. You can be whatever you want to be. You proved it back there. I never thought I'd see you show mercy."

"He was trapped in the past. Reliving it every day. You showed how that could be me. I'm not getting stuck like that. I'm better than him, and I'm sure as hell not carrying that crater around with me," Jack declared. Now she sat up, eyes alight with a strength she hadn't had before, determination, maybe still fueled by anger, but no longer directed toward hatred and revenge.

Shepard nodded, satisfied. "Good. Don't. Leave it there. Moments like that can change you, but only if you let them and keep moving forward. Do you feel different now?"

Jack shrugged. "I know that place is gone. But I still kind of want to kill every person I see. No offense." She raised an eyebrow at Shepard, challenging her.

Beth held her hands up. "I'll take what I can get. It's not like things are going to get easier for you overnight. You know that."

"Yeah. But still. You did a lot. I…I owe you one, Shepard. Let's just—leave it at that. Get back to work. If it doesn't kill us all."

"We can't go pirate queen if it does," Beth joked.

"Shit, do you know how we could tear it up?" Jack grinned, relishing her old favorite fantasy. "You and me, minus these Cerberus assholes? Hell, the others could even come. Grunt, Vakarian. Even that salarian freak show. You got some people that know their stuff. Could be useful."

"We've got some good people," Shepard agreed. "I don't think we're going to die, though, Jack. I think we're going to kick the Collectors out of this galaxy and into the next, and then…"she broke off, shook her head. It was a lie to begin with, or at least stretching the truth so far it might snap in half a second. But the Reapers were backing the Collectors, and if by some miracle they did survive the Omega run on the Collector Base, she knew what would be waiting for them next. And it wouldn't be a life of luxurious adventure, living it up and blowing shit up in deep space like Jack wanted. If she thought she'd pissed off the Reapers killing Sovereign, it'd be nothing to what she was planning now, if it worked.

Jack raised an eyebrow, smirked, calling her bullshit. "If I die, I'm haunting you, Shepard," she said. "I guess we'll talk after we kick some Collector ass. If I'm not going hunting after all, I guess I'll have some free time. Pirate or not, you blow a lot of shit up. Could be fun."

Shepard folded her arms and leaned up against the wall, thinking of a giant machine, blocking out the light of Widow's star as it descended on the Citadel. "Maybe a little too much fun, Jack," she murmured. "Even for you."


	37. Resurrection: Dozen Kinds of Wrong

**Disclaimer: Most of the dialogue is from the Eye for an Eye mission in ME2 and the Garrus romantic subplot. Rights to Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Sexual References and Some Mild Innuendo.**

**Characters/Pairings: Garrus. And yes, this is finally, definitely pre-ShepardxGarrus.**

* * *

Resurrection: Dozen Kinds of Wrong

Shepard watched Garrus pace around the gunnery, checking systems, tweaking calibrations. That Thanix cannon he'd wanted so badly was so damned fussy. Shepard hoped to God it was worth all the trouble and expense when the time came to use it on some Collectors. Garrus did have a deft touch with it, though. Like with his rifle. The mods he had on that thing were _sweet_. Shepard wondered what else Garrus could do with his talons.

She wasn't _technically_ Alliance anymore, after all, and Garrus was _technically_ a volunteer. Not _technically_ under her command. Even if Cerberus _did_ have fraternization regs like the Alliance, and they _didn't_, they wouldn't apply. Technically. Shepard eyed the gunnery console. She could press the inviting button right now and shut and lock the door, or even do it remotely with her omnitool. He could pin her up against that fussy Thanix, _forget_ the calibrations, and—

Dammit!

But it had been running through her head for weeks, again and again, over and over and over, like a loop transmission that also broadcast the most ungodly fantasies.

Something was very wrong with her. She responded breezily to some comment or other he made, letting the conversation run on autopilot, glad she could let it run on autopilot. She had bigger problems.

She hadn't been laid in this lifetime. Not since her freak resurrection. That could be the reason for her sudden strange sexual urges. Or maybe it was that the stress had finally taken its toll and she was starting to crack up. Shepard supposed that trying to figure out how to save humanity before the Collectors took them all, trying to figure out how to stay alive long enough to do said saving once they'd all gone through the freaking Omega-4 relay could crack anyone up. Even with the upgrades, the increasingly committed crew, and the new recruits, including Tali, it was going to be a pinch. That sort of stress could make anyone have weird dreams, Shepard reasoned. Daydreams. Probably.

Garrus had starred increasingly in hers ever since she'd first found him again on Omega. Shepard had been trying to ignore it, but she wondered, she did wonder what it'd be like to touch his skin. Skin? Hide? Plates? What did they call it again, on a turian? What _would _his talons feel like on her skin? Was the equipment any different?

He kept talking, just chatting away. It didn't even matter what about, Shepard always enjoyed the sound of his voice. She wanted to crawl up into his voice and stay.

Except it was so completely wrong in a dozen different ways. Shepard listed them inside her head, regulating her breathing like she always had to do around Garrus now, it seemed, and trying not to _completely_ zone out on the conversation, either. He wouldn't mind if she did. Garrus was always saying she needed to take some time to just breathe. But he might ask her what she was thinking about, and she couldn't have that. Right. Right. Reasons lusting after Garrus was completely wrong.

He wasn't human. Not even levo-compatible. Not only would sex be weird, they could probably _kill_ each other, if they tried anything. Assuming he'd even want to try anything. Well, not really. Shepard knew enough about science to know they probably wouldn't kill each other. She didn't have the dextro-allergy, because one time she'd eaten his rations by mistake and another time she'd eaten Tali's to try to prove that the stuff was actually edible (she hadn't been able to choke the whole meal down that time and had had to concede that maybe Nelson _did_ need dextro cooking lessons after all), and she hadn't had any reaction at all either time. Did Garrus have a serious reaction to levo, though? They could probably work something out-Never mind! It didn't matter! That wasn't the point!

She wasn't a xenophile. She wasn't! Shepard was more willing to work with and befriend aliens than probably eighty-seven percent of the human population and all of Cerberus, always had been, but she wasn't any Kelly Chambers, either! She'd never wanted to sex up anyone outside of her own species, hadn't even considered it before. It was just…Garrus. But there was more!

Forget the technicalities of Alliance protocol she wasn't even under anymore, there was no way to get around that Garrus _was_ on her squad. Messing around could go pear-shaped so many ways. It could screw them up on and off the battlefield.

And the waves wouldn't stop with her and Garrus, even! Shepard hadn't come back to herself until they'd recruited Garrus; the team, when it had finally started getting off the ground, had formed around _both_ of them, not just Shepard. Messing around could screw up the entire crew dynamic!

Then Garrus was her friend, too. Certainly the best friend she'd had since she died. Best friend she'd had in years. Probably the best damn friend she'd _ever_ had. Beth certainly didn't want to mess _that_ up acting out on some stupid, nonsensical, totally _wrong_ attraction.

He was looking at her again. Waiting for a response. Beth smiled. "I thought you'd be used to high risk operations on human ships," she said lightly. "I mean, think about tracking Saren to Ilos."

She clenched her fists to keep herself from shivering with those deep-set silver blue sniper's eyes trained on her.

It'd started with stupid sexy Archangel. Space Batman in his cave after a five-day one-man stand to write an epic about, alone against a hundred pissed-off mercs, with a sniper shot to make old Clarkson from the N7 Academy weep. Beth Shepard didn't like vigilantes, but Garrus had done it with such _style. _Archangel wasn't just a vigilante. He was a _legend_. It would take those three gangs years to recover from his reign of terror, and people would still be talking about it years after that. It had caused Shepard some distress even back when she hadn't known Archangel's identity, disapproving of act and motive and admiring the execution so damn much. When she'd found out _Archangel_ was _Garrus_, and the attraction hadn't gone away, it'd been worse.

Not that she hadn't been glad to get Garrus back. Quite the opposite. She'd never been so happy to see anyone in her life as she'd been on Omega, never as relieved as she'd been when Doc Chakwas had told her he'd be fine after the rocket to the face he'd taken there. She hadn't been what Cerberus wanted, the Shepard they'd commissioned and brought back from the dead, until she had Garrus backing her up. She trusted him first and most. She didn't even have to look behind heron mission to see him guarding her six and kicking ass, because she _knew_ he was. She'd got into the habit of bringing him along, every single mission. He worked with anyone, was good in any situation. And because she trusted him, the _crew_ trusted him. Of _course_ Jack and Grunt had gone to him about their concerns after Horizon, when she'd holed up in the docking bay to try to beat herself back into shape. Of course he'd come. It was wonderful, _exhilarating_, having Garrus with her again, knowing he had her back, even when she told him to get lost, knowing she could always, always count on him.

But she'd never had time to recover from Archangel. Never had time to set her head straight and deal with the stupid, problematic attraction. Every mission, she'd hear Garrus' damn voice over the radio, cracking another sarcastic one-liner, and she'd think, _after this, maybe I can help him clean up that torn-up hardsuit, see what the hell he looks like under it, anyway_.

Shepard rather thought the biggest problem was she didn't even want to set her head straight.

But she'd been managing, she'd been dealing, until two weeks ago on Citadel, when the whole thing with Lantar Sidonis had blown up.

* * *

_ She could hear Garrus breathing over the radio as she'd waited in the square. Beth had wanted to say something, but she'd tried, and tried again, and he'd blown her off every time. She'd been able to find the words when she was explaining herself to him, two years ago, why she'd walked away. She'd known exactly what to say to Jack the week before, the way to challenge her and make her see obsessing over the past was the stupid choice. But every time she tried to say the same thing to Garrus, Beth's words dried up and her throat closed, and when she closed her eyes all she could see was Garrus on the floor in that base on Omega, lying in a pool of his own blood. He'd been alone, in that situation, because of Lantar Sidonis, and if Beth was absolutely honest with herself, she wanted that piece of shit dead, too. For Garrus' dead team, for the weight in his step and the weariness in his voice, for his face that would never be the same, she wanted that cowardly, traitorous son of a bitch dead. But she didn't want Garrus to kill him. She really, really didn't want Garrus to kill him._

_ Every step they'd taken toward Sidonis, Garrus had grown darker, angrier, more unstable. They'd had Harkin trussed up for Bailey, bruised and without an escape. He so obviously wasn't worth killing, but Beth honestly hadn't known if Harkin would be alive if she hadn't been there when Garrus interrogated him. The light in his eyes, the edge in his voice, the tension he carried in every muscle was dangerous. Garrus wasn't pursuing justice, he was after revenge. He was going off the deep end, and if he surrendered to it, let hate and anger drive him like this, when he shot Sidonis he'd shoot a hole through his own soul. _

_ "What would you do if someone betrayed you?" he'd asked. Beth hadn't had an answer for that. For victimization, for murder of friends and lover, she had a reply. But not for that heart-betrayal. No reason why Garrus should let Judas live while the blood of his friends cried out from Omega's barren, thirsty ground, except for what it would do to him to kill for revenge. And Garrus didn't give a damn about that, so long as the blood debt was paid. _

_ Garrus' voice had sounded in her ear like a death knell. "Alright. There he is. Wave him over and keep him talking."_

_ She'd seen him immediately, just known who he was by the way he kept his head down, the way his eyes shifted, like a rat's. Shepard had tipped Sidonis a nod, and he'd seen her and come over. He'd still thought this was an identity thing. _

_ "You're in my shot," Garrus had growled. "Move to the side."_

_ And that's when Beth had gone crazy, and hadn't. "Listen, Sidonis. Stand still," she'd whispered._

_ He'd jumped. "Don't ever say that name aloud," he had hissed._

_ "Too late for that now," Beth'd said, speaking quickly. "Garrus is here, and he wants you dead."_

_ Sidonis had craned his neck around, started to tremble. "Garrus? Is this some kind of joke?"_

_ "Damn it, Shepard! If he moves, I'm taking the shot!"_

_ Shepard had felt Garrus' sights on the back of her head like a searing point of heat. She'd known the anger he had to be feeling at her, known his finger had to be tight on the trigger. Garrus'd taken two guys out with a single shot before, and they weren't even standing at maximum range. _

_ Sidonis had looked back at her, "You're not kidding, are you? Screw this. I'm not sticking around here to find out. Tell Garrus I had my own problems."_

_ Beth's heart had leapt into her throat, and she seized the scum's arm. "Don't move!"_

_ "Get off me!"_

_ "I am the only thing standing between you and a hole in the head. Do. Not. Move." _

_ Sidonis had looked behind her, collapsed in on himself. "Fuck! Look…I didn't want to do it," he said, speaking quickly. "I didn't have a choice."_

_ "Everyone has a choice," Garrus had snarled. But he was listening. Beth breathed shakily, trembling herself as adrenaline had raced through her veins at what she could swear were FTL speeds. Her muscles ached with the effort of not moving. _

_ "They got to me," Sidonis continued. "Said they'd kill me if I didn't help. What was I supposed to do?" Bile had risen in Beth's mouth. Her hand had itched to slap the bastard, to shoot him herself._

_ "Let me take the shot, Shepard! He's a damn coward!" Garrus had snapped._

_ But Beth kept talking. "That's it? You were just trying to save your own skin?" _

_ "I know what I did. I know they died because of me," Sidonis had said, quietly now. He'd moved away, and even through her hatred and contempt for the man, Beth had moved with him, keeping her head between Sidonis' head and Garrus' rifle. "And I have to live with that. I wake up every night…sick…and sweating. Each of their faces staring at me…accusing me. I'm already a dead man. I don't sleep. Food has no taste. Some days I just want it to be over."_

_ "Just give me the chance," Garrus had growled._

_ Judas had hung himself. A final act of greed and cowardice, a refusal to live with the guilt of his actions. For Judas, death had been a mercy. Beth had felt a sudden rush of exultation. She would extend no such mercy to Lantar Sidonis. "He's already paying for his crime, Garrus. He'll pay for the rest of his life," she'd said, speaking directly over the radio for the first time in Sidonis' hearing._

_ "He hasn't paid enough," Garrus had argued. "He still has his life."_

_ Beth had snorted. "Look at him, Garrus. This is a man that sold his soul to save his skin. Now he has to pay the devil. Leave him to it. He's already in Hell. There's nothing for you to kill." She'd taken fierce pleasure in saying the words, and Sidonis had flinched beneath every one. _

_ "My men…they deserved better." The words were a lament._

_ "Tell Garrus…I guess there's nothing I can say to make it right," Sidonis had sighed. _

_ Just as she'd felt Garrus' crosshairs on her, Beth felt it when they fell. "Just…go. Tell him to go."_

_ "Get out of here, you bastard," she'd said. "He's letting you live. Do something with it."_

_ "I…I'll try," Sidonis stammered. "Garrus—I'll make it up to you somehow. Thank you," he'd added to Shepard. "For talking to him."_

_ She'd shaken her head. "I didn't do it for you."_

_ He'd nodded, once. His neck flushed blue with shame, and the rat had scurried away, head down._

* * *

After she'd stuck her nose in like that, expressly against what he'd wanted, Beth had half expected Garrus to freeze up on her. To blame her. But instead, after about a day, he'd been grateful. At peace. On his end, things had gone back to normal, almost to like how they'd been on the SR1. But Shepard was _still_ reeling from what had happened in the square.

She hadn't known that it would turn out alright, that keeping Garrus from shooting Sidonis would be the right move, the punishment Sidonis deserved and the chance to turn it around that he didn't. All she'd wanted when she'd stepped in front of that shot was to bring Garrus back, to save _him_. Blocking the shot had been the only thing she could think of that might get through to him. She'd known when she'd done it that part of Garrus would want to shoot straight through her to get to Sidonis. She'd counted on it to shock him, to cut through the red that filled his vision and the blood that filled his ears, and get him to _look_, and _listen_.

It had still been a damn crazy thing to do. When word had got out—Shepard suspected Jack had told Daniels and Donnelly and the story had spread from there—Miranda had read her the _riot_ act. Garrus could have shot her.

But in the end, their friendship had been more powerful than Garrus' extremely well-justified grudge and his high-powered rifle. Garrus _could_ have shot her, but he hadn't. He'd listened. She'd predicted that, hoped for that.

What she hadn't predicted, what she'd been completely unprepared for, was the chemicals that had shot through her at the time. She hadn't had a breath to think about it in the moment, but the second she'd seen Garrus again it had hit her with all the force of a biotic throw that Garrus could have gunned her down, but _hadn't_, that the juxtaposition there of Garrus' physical power over her with the strength of the influence she had over him had been _intoxicating_.

It was all chemical. She'd done something phenomenally stupid for all the right reasons, and the gamble had paid off. A whopping cocktail of adrenaline, fear, and weeks of pent-up worry had shot through her head and through her veins when she'd stepped in front of the shot, and then been topped off with a heaping helping of oh-my-God-I-can't-believe-I'm-alive-and-that-actually-worked-even-better-than-I-hoped to lock the whole thing in a positive feedback loop. It was all purely chemical.

But she _hadn't been able to ditch the memory_. What had gone down with Sidonis had skyrocketed her nonsensical, but manageable attraction to Garrus Vakarian to extremely distracting levels. Shepard could regulate her breathing, her heart rate, but she couldn't keep a lid on her thoughts anymore. They ran wild, even ratcheted her body temperature up at least two degrees every time she was in the same room with him now, one physiological response she hadn't figured out how to control yet. She wondered if Garrus could tell. That damn visor, or some turian sense. She furiously hoped he couldn't. It was bad enough having the uncharacteristically xenophiliac and definitely self-destructive hots for her best friend the turian vigilante. It would be such a mess if he ever found out. It was probably all Cerberus' fault. They'd rebuilt her wrong, or something.

"…even full-contact sparring. Whatever lets people work off stress."

Even incredibly sexually frustrated, Beth Shepard was a soldier, an officer. The conversation suddenly jumped to the forefront of her commander brain and battlefield logistics took precedence over personal matters. "Wait. Stop and rewind," she said. "Turian ships actually have crewmen fighting each other before a mission? If the troops beat each other to a pulp before a battle, doesn't that make missions dangerous? What kind of casualties do turian crews incur because of injuries received during infighting before a mission?"

Garrus chuckled. "Your human is showing, Shepard. It's supervised, of course. Nobody is going to risk an injury that interferes with the mission. And it's a good way to settle grudges amicably. I remember right before one mission we were about to hit a batarian pirate squad. Very risky. This recon scout and I had been at each other's throats. Nerves, mostly. She suggested we settle it in the ring."

Beth blinked, smiled. Garrus almost never talked about his past. He'd told her a couple C-Sec stories. Mostly they talked guns, enemies, the squad, tactics. This sudden insight into the turian military and Garrus' personal history was intriguing.

"I assume you took her down gently?"

"Actually, she and I were the top-ranked hand-to-hand specialists on the ship. I had reach, but she had flexibility," Garrus said. "It was brutal. After nine rounds, the judge called it a draw. There were a lot of unhappy betters in the training room." He paused, then continued. "We, ah, ended up holding a tiebreaker in her quarters. I had reach, but she had flexibility. More than one way to work off stress, I guess."

It was like he'd electrified her, and Beth's brain shorted out, just for a moment. If turians did casual hookups, just like that, to relieve stress, if _Garrus_ did…"Sounds like you're carrying some tension, Garrus," she said, before her brain caught up. "Maybe I could help you get rid of it."

Garrus blinked, sizing her up. "I, ah, didn't think you'd feel like sparring, Commander."

"What if we skipped right to the tiebreaker? We could test your reach…and my flexibility."

_That_ was when her brain caught up, and Beth started panicking inside, but it was too late. With a massive effort, Shepard kept her face completely straight. Maybe she could play it off like a joke.

Garrus stared. "Oh! I didn't…huh. Never knew you had a weakness for men with scars."

He considered her, sizing her up again, but this time, differently. God, he was actually thinking about it! Adrenaline shot through Beth, potent and damaging as any drug off the streets.

"Well, why the hell not?" he said. "There's nobody in this galaxy I respect more than you, and…if we can figure out a way to make it work, then…yeah. _Definitely_."

Garrus' voice dropped on the last word, and so did Beth's stomach. He'd never thought about it before, clearly, but now that she'd quite possibly been a phenomenal idiot, he liked the idea. A _lot_. Oh, God, what did she do next? Now that she'd propositioned her best friend, her squadmate, and he'd _actually taken her up on it_?

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Beth searched her suddenly foggy memory frantically, trying to remember if she'd said anything about timing, relieved to find she hadn't. And he'd implied some time to figure biology out, so…Beth smirked at Garrus and slowly walked out of the battery, until she heard the door close behind her. Then, minus the need to keep it cool, she started walking much, much faster.

She was almost running by the time she got to the elevator. One of the crewmen—Buddy Yeats, she thought his name was—looked at her sideways as she dashed in, probably wondering exactly what had sent Commander Shepard absolutely mad.

In her cabin, Beth started all out pacing, up and down the stairs, between the wall and the door fast, fast, hyperventilating in the aftermath of her massive brain fart. Should she go back down there and take it back? That'd be the smart thing to do, but damn it! She didn't want to take it back!

"Oh, God, _what the hell is wrong with me?_" she moaned.

She'd convinced herself it'd be a total mess. That'd been the _only_ reason she'd been able to keep balanced against the dozen reasons acting on her attraction to Garrus was completely wrong. If he didn't like the idea, things would get awkward. If he _did_, there could be fifty more issues. Beth didn't do fraternization and attachment. _Never again_. This was pure, gut attraction for her, as hell-outta-nowhere and fantastic as it was. Chemicals. She could probably work it off in a single _stress-relieving_ encounter. She'd known that, and if it was just a one-time hookup, there wouldn't be a problem. But while she'd been able to read Kaidan right away and know that he couldn't do that, she'd been completely stymied over Garrus. She didn't know if turians _in general_ had casual sex, let alone if _Garrus_ did. He _never_ talked about himself. Not until today.

The second she'd found out turians did have casual sex, that Garrus had casual sex, the delicate balance Shepard had struck had been wrecked beyond repair. It was like he'd said. Why the hell not? Her mouth had opened of its own accord.

Now she had to deal with it.

Just sex. Just sex. Not even sex. That was too intimate a word for what she wanted. Stress relief. Blowing off steam. To work whatever the hell was wrong with her out of her system, help him calm down before what was very probably a suicide run. And they'd still be friends after, and everything would be fine. _Everything would be fine_.

It was still a dozen kinds of wrong and probably really stupid, of course, but apparently Garrus was cool with that, so there was no reason to sweat it.

Beth stopped up short, sweating now a little. She swallowed. Oh, God. She rather wished she disliked Garrus now. Always, before, she'd _eased her tension_ with complete strangers she knew she'd never see again. But Garrus—Garrus was her favorite person in the entire freaking galaxy. Her best friend. She trusted him absolutely, and on the Citadel, it hadn't been _attraction_ that had made her step in front of that shot, _whatever _she'd felt afterwards. And just as she'd never been as glad to see someone in her life as she'd been when she found Garrus again on Omega, she'd never been as _scared_ in her life as those hours she'd spent outside the _Normandy_'s med bay after he'd taken that rocket to the face, when she hadn't known if he would make it or not, and she'd had to realize just how much she needed Garrus Vakarian _not to die_.

Yeah. All those…feelings…might complicate her brilliant plan.

Shit.

Beth clenched her fists so tightly her nails cut into her palm, thrust out her chin. She wouldn't let it, is all. Blowing off steam. Easing tension. That's all this thing with Garrus would _ever_ be.

_Never again_.

The dirty thoughts, the ungodly fantasies, they were all fair game now. But the rest of it was strictly off-limits, Beth decided. No feelings, no strings, no mess, no fuss. The friendship in one neat little compartment, the sex locked away in another one.

Maybe turians did have casual sex. Beth hadn't had sex since before she'd died, hadn't had sex that _meant_ anything since Sean Ashton, and never meant to again. But she wasn't idiot enough not to know that with humans, at least, _just sex_ could turn into something else, even with the best of intentions. She had to keep it together.

She was a dozen kinds of wrong for considering sex with Garrus in the first place. Well. Apparently he was, too. She had to make sure things stayed _wrong_, that she didn't twist the wrong into some sort of beautiful sense, even after all this time.

"No. No. _Never again_. _Never again_."

But she still didn't want to take it back. Damn it, they might _die_.

* * *

**A/N: This concludes posted revisions to _The Disaster Zone. _I'll post again soon. **

**Regards,**

**LMSharp**


	38. Resurrection: Something Better

**Disclaimer: Referenced events from the Treason quest in ME2. Rights to Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Mild Language.**

**Characters/Pairings: Tali. Shepard/Tali family/friendship. Referenced Shepard/Jack/Grunt family/friendship, Shepard/Chakwas friendship, Shepard/Jeff friendship, and Shepard/Tali/Garrus friendship.**

* * *

Resurrection: Something Better

The drive core hummed, drowning out the sounds of the rest of engineering. Here Cerberus had relaxed the luxury they'd lavished the rest of the SR2 with for wickedly efficient utility, but the metal floor was cold and hard beneath Beth Shepard, and so was the wall. Her shoulder was crammed painfully into the corner, and she could feel her left leg going to sleep. Shepard was extremely uncomfortable, but she didn't move.

Shepard stared into the pulsing bright blue light of the drive core helplessly, rubbing Tali's back absently. The quarian had fallen asleep a few minutes before, exhausted with grief and stress. Shepard could hear Tali's deeper breathing through the air filters in her suit, still slightly ragged from the tears.

She'd lost her father earlier. She'd almost lost her entire people.

Beth had known she'd find Tali there that night, behind the bit of wall that separated the drive core from the rest of engineering. The ship was filling up more and more these days. This was one of the only places onboard a person could break down in peace, without access to the captain's cabin, or fielding awkward questions from nearby crew. And Tali had been through enough today that she'd simply had to break down. Daniels and Donnelly couldn't see or hear anything that went on back here. So after a while, Shepard had come looking for Tali here.

Amazing how screwed up and needy such a crack team could be. The sad part is the ones that counted on her the most, the ones that needed her most, didn't even know what a sorry excuse she was for any kind of anchor, because they'd never known what real family looked like, either. A broken young woman covered in physical and emotional scars, biotically super-powered with a rap sheet kilometers long? A months-old krogan, a baby for all he was a biologically engineered weapon of mass-destruction, ignorant of everything except what the tank had taught him of killing? And Tali. She'd rhapsodized about the virtues of her people, so close they were all like family, but that family used and manipulated her without a second thought. None of them had any more idea what _real_ family was than Beth Shepard did, but they looked to her anyway. The idiots were doomed. Beth Shepard was about as prepared to be a parent as Anderson was to be a politician.

Jack never said anything out loud, and Beth was still unclear on what exactly a krannt or battlemaster was supposed to be, anyway, but it had been abundantly clear aboard the _Raaya_ today that legally and emotionally, Shepard was just as responsible for _Tali_ as she'd always thought. The quarians considered her Tali's advocate, charged with her safety and her representative in times of trouble. But Tali herself had implied she considered Shepard much more than merely her captain.

"_I got better, Shepard. I got you." _

Oh, God.

It wasn't like Tali _did_ have anything better, though. Her beloved people had sent her off alone into a hostile galaxy after eighteen years of shelter and protection. Whatever her "classes" and "gifts" had given her, she'd still been completely unprepared for her Pilgrimage, and Shepard had met two quarian kids since that had shown her Tali had hardly been the exception to the problem. One robbed and stranded on Omega, one very close to going to prison for a crime she didn't commit on the Citadel, both near starving and a long, long way from finding anything of value that would enable them to return home. Shepard had done what she could for them. But for Tali, the Pilgrimage had just been the beginning.

Tali hadn't been exaggerating her political importance, back in the day. If anything, she hadn't played up enough how she was apparently an avatar of the quarian people. Shepard had been so angry, though, when she'd seen. In the trial, Tali had been a pawn in the admiralty's political games. Shaala'Raan and Han'Gerrel professed to care about Tali. They didn't give a damn. The entire board had been so willing to run Tali into the dirt in pursuit of their various political agendas, and even the ones that wanted to save her hadn't lifted a finger to spare her feelings in doing so, hadn't wanted to save her from disgrace and exile because they actually loved her. The whole thing had left a bad taste in Beth's mouth, and even if Tali hadn't been on the verge of exile her entire life, she'd had to deal with those people for years.

And her father! He'd been an absolute moron. Taking shortcuts like he had to start a stupid, dangerous war to bridge the gap between himself and his daughter. If Rael'Zorah had known her at all he'd have realized that all Tali really wanted was his time.

Things could have been so much worse for Tali earlier, though, Shepard reflected sourly. If she'd been unable to make the admirals _see_ what jackasses they were being, see that they weren't actually trying _Tali_ at all, the whole thing might have blown up. If the admiralty hadn't come around, Shepard wouldn't have been able to pull off what she had. Tali might have still been exonerated. They'd found the proof that Tali was innocent of the charges laid against her. But if Shepard had been forced to actually submit it, all the quarians would know what an idiot Rael'Zorah had actually been. On top of his death and the stress of being tried for treason in the first place, Shepard didn't know how Tali would have coped. It was just as well things had worked out the way they had.

The admiralty board had cleared Tali out of guilt and embarrassment today, plain and simple. No one had been looking out for Tali on the _Raaya _today, any more than anyone had been looking out for her two years ago when she'd come into possession of information that had had her cornered and alone by a bunch of thugs in the back alley of the Citadel Lower Wards. Tali didn't have any real family, anyone really looking out for her. There wasn't anyone _better_ for her except Beth, and that was almost as hilarious as it was freaking terrifying.

Shepard actually laughed aloud. The sound was harsh, a little manic. Panicked. The drive core muffled the sound almost immediately, but Tali was still leaning against Beth, and she stirred.

"Shepard?" she said sleepily, confused. "Did I—did I fall asleep? I'm sorry. Why didn't you wake me? How long have we been here?"

Shepard shook her head. "It's only been a few minutes," she answered. Had it? She wasn't sure. "It's fine, Tali. I know you must be exhausted."

"I am," Tali agreed. "But that's no reason to sleep on the floor. On my commanding officer. Thanks, Shepard. This...it really means a lot, that you came to find me like this."

Shepard helped Tali sit up. "Yeah," she said. She drew her legs up to her chest. The drive core thrummed. Her heart beat in time with it.

"Shepard? Are _you_ alright?" Tali asked quietly.

"No," Beth admitted. "_Vas Normandy_, Tali. I joked about it before. But really, are you going to keep it?"

Tali thought about it for a moment. "I think I will," she answered. "Whatever the admiralty board meant by calling me _vas Normandy_, Shepard, I'm proud to be on your crew. The _Normandy_ _has_ been a true home to me."

Shepard pressed her lips together. She leaned back and pressed her head against the hard wall, closing her eyes. "Tali, I don't know a thing about homes and families," she said softly. "I'm just a soldier. You know that, right?"

A slender, three-fingered hand gripped her arm, and Beth looked into Tali's visor. She wondered about the two luminescent spots behind Tali's purple mask. Did her eyes really glow, or did the suit just light them up for conversational convenience? "What's wrong, Shepard?" Tali asked.

"I don't want to let you down, Tali," Beth answered. "Any of you. I do the best I can for you, and I always will. I think you know that. But just…remember what this is, okay? Remember who I am. I'm not your mom or sister or whatever. Your '_something better_.' Aside from the fact that I _can't_ be, not now, I don't even know how."

Tali laughed then, gently. "Don't know how? Shepard, you saved me on my Pilgrimage. Today on the _Raaya_, you kept me from being exiled and saved my father's memory among my people. And after that, you found me here and let me cry all over you. What else could anyone possibly want?"

Beth shook her head. "I saved you and dragged you halfway across the galaxy right through hell, and now I'm doing it again," she said. "You're my crew, Tali, and this isn't the flotilla. We're on a mission that if I screw _anything_ up, could kill us all." She snorted. "And I'm not a big damn hero, either. They call me the savior of the Citadel, but thousands died last time. We got damn lucky, Tali, and I don't know if we can pull a miracle out of our asses again. Even if we do, who the hell knows what we'll find? You know the Collectors aren't the worst of it."

Tali was quiet a moment. "I know we might die," she admitted finally. "But the Collectors—the Reapers—won't stop with humans. They're a threat to everyone in the galaxy. And I can't let you and Garrus deal with Cerberus on your own. You need me. Do you remember how on the _Raaya_, they said that the captain is responsible for the safety of her crew?"

"I'm not likely to forget."

"It works both ways. In the flotilla, we're like family—"

"—some family," Shepard couldn't help but interject.

"We weren't at our best today," Tali conceded. "But normally, a ship's crew help one another. If the quarian people didn't rely on one another, we would die. The captain is responsible for the lives aboard her ship, yes, but a crew takes care of its captain, too. Everyone pitches in, doing chores, repairs, learning new skills, fighting, if necessary. And the captain has _her _friends, _her_ family that she can rely on just like they can always rely on her. I may be _vas Normandy_, but in the language of my people, so are you. Shepard _vas Normandy_. You belong to this ship, to this crew, as much as I do. And we will take care of you as much as you take care of us."

Beth looked sharply over at her friend. "You've been talking to Garrus," she said. "I don't need anyone to take care of me, Tali."

Tali laughed again, and squeezed her arm. "Yes, you do," she said. "You would be lost without us, Shepard. Admit it."

"No." But Beth gripped Tali's arm in return and smiled. "Tali. I'm sorry about your dad. He was an _idiot_—don't deny it, he _was_—but I wish we'd been able to save him, or that you'd at least had a chance to say goodbye."

"Me, too." Tali murmured, releasing Shepard now and curling up against the wall herself.

Beth put her arm around Tali again briefly, and squeezed. "Come on," she said after a moment. "I'll walk you to your bunk." She helped Tali to stand.

"Shepard. It'll be okay. You know that, right? Whatever happens, we're all with you."

"Yeah, I'm still not convinced," Beth said. "But something bad needs killing, and we've got some big freaking guns. We'll do our part for the galaxy, and maybe we'll survive. I still feel like a horrible person for taking you down with me. Garrus. Jeff. Chakwas. All the others, too, now. But I'm glad you're with me, too."

"We're your friends. Maybe that will be enough," Tali said.

"Maybe. I hope so." Shepard walked toward the crew barracks, and thought of Ashley, of the thousands dead on the Citadel in the battle. She thought of the hundreds of thousands the Collectors had already abducted, and the Reapers, waiting in dark space, and didn't say anything else.


	39. Resurrection: Dirty

**Disclaimer: Mission referenced is Ardat-Yakshi. Rights to Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Violent references. Mild language.**

**Characters/Pairings: Mordin. Shepard/Mordin friendship.**

* * *

Resurrection: Dirty

Beth had taken three showers, but she still felt dirty.

She'd wrapped herself in five blankets, but she still felt too exposed, and she shivered.

Classical music, as different from the music they'd played in Afterlife as she could find, was blasting so loud from the speakers they could probably hear it in Engineering, but it didn't drown out the slimy, horrible memories of oily words, of hungry eyes and creeping hands, and foreign desires in her head. The relief, the gratitude she'd felt when she heard the crunch and slush as biotics tore into a body on a carpet without mercy. Except the echoing cry, _"And they call me a monster!" _still rang in her ears, and she could still see Samara's face, set like stone, as she killed her own daughter like a beast.

Nausea roiled in Beth's stomach, and she took deep breaths, but couldn't calm it.

The light on her door had been flashing for thirty seconds before Beth realized someone was knocking. She couldn't hear a rap or a ring over the frantic violin and blasting trumpet.

Whoever it was could go to hell! Beth didn't want to talk to anyone. They'd all just say something stupid, or make her try to relive what had happened. Beth trudged over to the camera, blankets and all, to shout at her visitor to get lost. Then she stopped, sighed, shut off the stereo, and opened the door.

"Interesting music choice, Shepard. Would not have figured you for a classicist. But blasting even instrumental music at such volume can damage human hearing. Also other species. Turian, asari, drell, quarian, salarian. Also…a distraction."

"Yeah, for me too. Well, I'd hoped it'd be. But I'm sorry I interrupted your work, Mordin. I know it's important," Beth said.

Mordin looked her up and down. "Four, no, _five _blankets. Temperature of room normal for human comfort levels. Fever? No, no flush, no sweat. _Psychological_ reaction, not physical. Reaction to latest mission with Ardat-Yakshi."

The matter-of-fact super-speed diagnosis opened Beth up just like anyone else's compassionate probing would have shut her down. "I just _barely_ said no, Mordin," she shuddered. "She got into my head, and she made me…she made me…if Samara hadn't shown up _right then_…I don't know how much longer I could've held out. She needed to die. But watching Samara kill her, even so…" Beth clutched the blankets around her even more tightly. She couldn't stop shaking.

Mordin watched her, concerned. "Ardat-Yakshi have _powerful_ effect. Even salarians not immune, despite comparative lack of sex drive. Normal reaction, Shepard. Nothing to be ashamed of. Held out longer than most."

Beth shook her head furiously. "I'm not even…I don't even _like_ women like that. And even if I did, _I knew what she was_. God, I saw what she left behind. I heard her in that club—Morinth was an _idiot_, Mordin! I don't care how smart Samara says she was. It was all a front, her so-called sophistication, totally shallow. She was completely vapid and vacuous, and ridiculously violent for no damn reason. I _saw_ all of that. I _knew_ all of that, as I talked to her. But _I wanted her anyway_."

Mordin waved a hand. "Mental suggestion," he explained. "Asari ability, heightened…and abused…in Ardat-Yakshi."

Beth glared at him. "I know what it was!" she snapped. "My emotional processing hasn't caught up to it, though. Forgive me for not possessing a salarian's speed in such matters."

Mordin smiled. "Don't expect you to have salarian emotional processing. Human. Different." He tapped a finger on his chin. "Perhaps untainted sexual encounter could…_recalibrate_ equilibrium. Have you studied pamphlets on turian-human relations?"

_Now_ Beth flushed, remembering all too well the talk with Mordin a week previously. "Oh, no," she said. "The _last_ thing I want when I'm feeling this vulnerable is sex, Mordin. And that was an _incredibly_ stupid joke. But it's sweet of you to think of it."

"Vulnerability usual in human sexual relations, especially among females," Mordin observed, curious. Beth crossed her arms.

"Yeah. No. Not for me. Sex is sex. Emotions have _nothing_ to do with it. I'll be fine, Mordin. I'll stop blasting the music."

Mordin regarded her for a second. "Nervous movement. Forced smile. All tells of dishonesty in humans. Hollow assertion."

"That I'm fine? Pretty much," Beth agreed. "Lying my ass off. I will stop blasting the music, though." Oddly, however, she did feel somewhat better. She tossed her blankets back on top of the bed. "Let's try something else, okay? Let's go down to the lab and you can tell me what you've found out about the Collectors lately. Go over all those operations I was interrupting with my music."

Mordin lit up, pleased to have a solution. "Distraction, yes! Push emotional response to back of the mind until internal chemistry has regulated. Fear of Ardat-Yakshi. Guilt at response. Gratitude to Samara. Disgust at mother killing child…whatever reason. Reasonable coping technique, Shepard, for a human. So long as emotions are dealt with later."

"Yeah. _Later_," Beth said wryly. "Right now, I want to be _distracted_, remember? Not hear everything that's going through my head and pumping through my bloodstream."

But he was so sensible, so matter-of-fact, so quick and quirky and kind, without being overbearing in the least that Beth really didn't mind. Not really.

"Come. Will show you work. Made breakthrough: based on Prothean-Collector connection, can examine technology, chart Reaper species modification. Fall of Protheans."

"Really? Tell me about it."

Beth followed Mordin out of her cabin and into the elevator as he began to do so, in comprehensive and technical detail. She took in another deep breath, and this time, as Mordin's science-babble filled her ears at hyper-speeds, mostly fascinating and helpful but also at least twenty percent incomprehensible, the nausea did dissipate a little, and she smiled.

* * *

**A/N: Mostly I love Samara. Her strict honor code carries with it an incredible serenity, and if I were Shepard, I'd probably spend a lot of time with her in undemanding silence. Such a break from the rest of the messed-up chatty crew. But the Ardat-Yakshi mission really bothers me. It's not that Morinth doesn't deserve to die. She's a serial killer. You could make a good argument that she's a serial rapist, since Ardat-Yakshi victims aren't in full control of their facilities. But luring her the way Shepard does always makes **_**me**_** feel dirty and exposed. Beth was strong enough to resist falling under Morinth's sway in the end. But it doesn't mean she wasn't tempted, and someone crawling in her head like that and making her feel things is a nightmare for her. A mother killing her daughter, too, hit a nerve for the orphan. She'd have felt a lot better if she could interest Morinth at Afterlife and then shoot her nice and clean as soon as she introduced herself, forget Samara's oath. So would I.**

**Mordin is another of my favorite ME2 companions. Frankly, he's just adorable. I'm not super sentimental, but his death in ME3 leaves me **_**sobbing**_** every. Single. Time. When I don't cry for anything else! And for a person as out of touch with her feelings as Beth, I think hanging with someone that always sees things so pragmatically would be a breath of fresh air. Especially after something as emotionally wrenching as the Ardat-Yakshi mission. **

**This chapter came out of that.**

**Regards, **

**LMS**


	40. Resurrection: Strings Attached

**Disclaimer: Some dialogue from the Garrus-romance in ME2.**

**Section Warnings: Mild language, sensuality. Off-page sexual encounter.**

**Characters/Pairings: If you hadn't guessed already, ShepardxGarrus.**

* * *

Resurrection: Strings Attached

The music was god-awful, Garrus couldn't even drink the stupid wine with her, and they only had a couple hours, anyway. And now he was babbling, and Beth Shepard felt at least as idiotic as Garrus looked. God, how the hell had she missed the signs that whatever and whoever he'd done in the past, when it came down to it, Garrus wouldn't just be blowing off steam with her? She should've shut things down weeks ago.

He was still babbling. "…I knew I should've watched the vids."

Beth stepped forward and put her hand over his mouth. "Hey. Hey. It's alright. Consider me seduced, okay? Shut up and stop worrying. You're much sexier when you're not trying. But it's adorable that you're trying."

With her other hand, she turned off the crap pounding through the stereo. She smiled up at him, and dropped the hand covering his mouth.

"I just…I've seen so many things go wrong, Shepard," Garrus murmured. His voice sent tremors through the floor, up her feet and spine, made heat fill her like it hadn't in more than a lifetime. "My work at C-Sec, what happened with Sidonis…I want something to go right. Just once. Just…"

Beth had thought she didn't have a heart to break anymore, but the pain in her chest testified against her as the whole mess of strings Garrus had attached cut into her gut and tore her heart.

_Oh_, _you idiot. You just had to bring feelings into the room with you. We could_ die, _Garrus. You, me, or both, and then where will we be? Where will we be if we live, if we do this_ now?

But Garrus Vakarian was Beth's favorite person in the galaxy and had been for a long, long time. She trusted him absolutely. If these were to be her last two hours alive, she wanted to spend them with him. She took both Garrus' hands in hers. They were ungloved at last. His skin was warmer than a human's, more like leather in the sun than anything else, and his talons were blunt, friendly. Beth turned his hands palms up, and brought them to her lips. She kissed them both.

_Here's if you die, and here's so you live, Garrus Vakarian. And for an hour and_ _a_ _bit, I'll forget about_ never again, _for you, because it really might be_ **never** again. _Right here, right now,_ _I can give you this much. Just this once,_ _I can make things go right. Even if all_ _I_ wanted _was wrong, easy, uncomplicated and safe._

Garrus turned his hands to cup her face, and touched her forehead with his own. A turian approximation of a kiss, she guessed. Beth took his hands again and guided the under her shirt. His eyes were wide, wonderstruck. Her own eyes stung with threatening tears.

_God,_ _I should've known better._

* * *

The silence was so full it was a symphony in its own right. Beth lay dazed in Garrus' arms, completely bare. The air was cool on her skin. She wondered if it was cold on Garrus' warmer body. He didn't seem to mind, though. He ran his fingers through her hair, seemingly transfixed. It was unbound for once, twisted and tangled over her pillow and upper body. Beth traced patterns over the pebbled plating across Garrus' chest and shoulders.

Garrus had predicted interspecies awkwardness, and there had been some of that, but overall, things had gone… _very_ well. Better than Beth had honestly expected. As good as, though different, than she'd sometimes dared to hope. Beautiful in a way she hadn't anticipated.

If she'd anticipated it, she knew, she would never have had the guts to follow through. Beth had been completely unprepared for this. In a way, she thought, it was almost precisely how she'd felt over Alchera, two years ago. Spaced. Windmilling frantically to find a leg to stand on, something to hold. Running out of air. Drowning, then burning. Completely out of control. Powerless.

Except she was burning from the inside, drowning in her head, and the heaviness in her limbs, the fire in her bones was _wonderful._ But Beth knew, knew from cruel experience that the way she felt now was every bit as dangerous as being spaced over Alchera.

Just now, she didn't care. Instead, Beth ran her eyes shamelessly over every bit of Garrus, memorizing him, fixing the last hour and a bit in her mind for all time. She'd carry it with her into battle, the most vivid, most meaningful time she'd spent in longer than a lifetime. A reason to try to live. But she found herself halfway hoping she didn't, too. It was _all too much._

Shepard had promised herself that she wouldn't let sleeping with Garrus change anything. It was just supposed to be sex. Less than that. _Stress relief._ But Garrus had brought his heart in his hands to her cabin, and he'd changed _everything._

He was looking at her now. It was the same expression he wore when he was looking through the scope of his rifle, or calibrating the Thanix. The same laser focus, the same intensity. "What are you thinking about?"

Beth let a slow, shaky breath out. "I don't want to get up," she whispered. "But—"

"But we have to go kick some Collector ass," he finished ruefully. "Damn, you're right. Shepard, I never thought it'd be…"

Beth winced before she could stop herself, despised herself for wincing. He stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said. "It shouldn't matter." Except it did matter, and she decided she might as well face up to it. "Just…hell, Garrus, I am naked in your arms and we both might be dead in an hour. So, just once, before we get up—Beth, okay? Not Shepard. Beth."

Garrus looked down the length of her entire body, taking her in, like she was taking him in, fixing this in his memory, too. "Beth," he repeated, all low and intense. She shivered at the sound of her name from his mouth.

She'd miscalculated. She had miscalculated _magnificently._

"Garrus," Beth said. "Live, okay? You _better_ live. That's an order. This _will not_ be a suicide mission. It _won't_ be."

Garrus' mandibles flared in a turian smile, and he ran his thumb across her cheek. "What do you say we both survive? We can celebrate together."

Beth sat up then and reached for her underarmor, on the table near the bed. "We…we'll see."

She wanted to. God, she wanted to, but she'd never meant it to be like this. She'd never wanted strings attached. She felt his eyes on her back, watching her, probably seeing everything she wasn't saying because he'd known her so damn well already. She'd been so confident before, but now she blushed all over her body and couldn't control it, every bit as awkward as he'd ever been.

Another full silence, and then Beth began pulling on her clothes as Garrus moved to start looking for his.


	41. Resurrection: The Bravest of Us

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: Language. **

**Characters/Pairings: Mentioned Grunt, Kelly Chambers, Tali, Samara, Garrus, Jack, Gabriella Daniels, Mordin, EDI. Crew friendship. Allusion to ShepardxGarrus, mention of Shepard/Mordin friendship, implied Shepard/EDI/Joker friendship. But main character is Miranda, and main focus is Shepard/Miranda friendship. **

Resurrection: The Bravest of Us

* * *

Shepard watched the crew from the doorway of the portside observatory, the one with the bar. They'd cranked up the music, cracked open the booze, and they were all dancing the I-can't-believe-we-survived-that dance. Grunt's eyes were glittering and he was yelling about how fun the battle had been. He was ready to have an I-can't-believe-we-survived-that fight. The first few buttons of Kelly's shirt were undone, and her hair was artfully ruffled. She had a drink in one hand and was gyrating particularly provocatively right in the middle of the floor. She was damn ready to have I-can't-believe-we-survived-that sex. Probably wouldn't matter who with.

Garrus was dancing with Tali and Samara, but he'd looked Beth's way more than once. That last was definitely on his mind, too. Shepard folded her arms tightly about herself. Sooner or later, probably sooner, she'd have to decide what the hell to do with the elephant she'd let in the room, since they'd both survived, but for now, she was needed elsewhere.

Shepard gave it less than an hour before it hit Jack. Not that Jack hadn't been preparing for this the entire time she'd been aboard, looting all the spare credits she could, and Shepard just bet Jack hadn't limited her research to her own past with the access Shepard had given her and had a nice little package of dirty Cerberus laundry to sell for passage and protection by now, or Jack was stupider than she thought. But right now, Jack was living it up with the rest of them, elbow deep in snacks to replenish her energy and boasting loudly and enthusiastically to Daniels about her part in their run through the seeker swarms.

Only one person was absent from the festivities. Shepard left the observation deck, and headed to the XO office. Miranda was sitting at her desk as usual. She'd grabbed a drink from the party, but hers wasn't celebratory. Her long fingers shook as she held the glass. She was normally pale. Just now, she was bone white.

Shepard sat in the chair opposite Miranda. "Thirty minutes to an hour before Mordin gets bored with celebrating," she said. "Waste of time, he'll say. Work to do, he'll say. If you want, we'll ask him the second he comes out if he can utilize his contacts in the salarian STG to get Oriana out again, away from where Cerberus can use her as a hostage."

Miranda's eyes, before glassy and panicked, focused. "Shepard…would he?" she asked hopefully. "I have my own contacts, of course, but-"

"People that have never been affiliated with Cerberus will be better," Shepard finished, nodding. "He'll want to help. Mordin's like that. And if I ask him, it'll get done fast, too."

"I sent an email to Oriana the second we got back to the ship. None of the others realize the position we're in yet," Miranda said, worriedly.

"We're in a deep pile of shit," Shepard agreed. "Survived the suicide mission against all odds, but broke from Cerberus and stole their multi-million dollar ship. And you know—the multi-billion dollar me." She grimaced.

"It's funny," Miranda said, "But if Joker hadn't unshackled EDI, we might be in a much worse position, now."

"I thought she'd be on our side," Shepard said, somewhat smugly. "EDI?"

"You are my shipmates," came EDI's clear, sweet voice from the empty air. "The Illusive Man has already attempted to seize control of the _Normandy._ He will not succeed." The last words had a lovely steely quality to them. Shepard smiled.

"We owe you one, EDI."

"You owe me seventeen," EDI replied serenely. "That was a joke," she added after a moment.

"Yeah, keep working on the humor," Shepard advised the AI. She looked back at Miranda. "EDI's alright," she said, quoting Joker. "Like Legion. AIs thinking for themselves don't always have to be bad, it turns out. Knowing she'd probably stand with us is what let me tell the Illusive Man to go to hell, instead of trying to lie and figure out what to do later. EDI'll buy us some time, at least."

"Of course she's on our side," Miranda said. "On _your_ side. You…you're _Shepard._ How could she not be?" There was still some bitterness in her voice, and a lot of fear.

Beth reached across the desk and gripped Miranda's forearm. It was ice cold. "Don't think I don't know what you risked back there, supporting me. I know, Miranda. You have everything to lose, and you backed me up and did the right thing even though it hurt. Your loyalty means more than the whole rest of the squad's, because it cost you so much. You're the bravest of us all, and I'm going to make damn sure you don't regret it."

Miranda's face softened just a little. "That Reaper was an abomination," she said. "What the Collectors did to all those people was monstrous. The place needed to be destroyed. You were right. I won't regret my decision. But I can take care of myself, you know."

Beth held up both hands, gently mocking. "Far be it from me to deny it." She dropped them and met Miranda's gaze. "But you won't have to," she promised.

Miranda sat back in her chair, relaxing. She smiled, just barely. "You know," she said, "Over the two years I spent rebuilding you, I grew…attached to you, Shepard. I read your files over and over, a hundred times. I told myself a hundred stories of how it would be when you woke up, how we'd save the galaxy together. For a while after you woke up, I hated you. You were everything I thought you would be, but I felt like you didn't need me anymore. But you…eventually you gave me a chance, after all. And here we are."

Shepard blinked. It had never occurred to her what had gone through Miranda's head over the time she'd spent heading the Lazarus Project, the intimacy Miranda might have formed with the expectation of what Shepard would be. Suddenly, much more of Miranda's seeming hostility at the beginning of their acquaintance made sense. Not merely fear of her growing dependence on Shepard, but a reaction to Shepard's own initial distrust, to being a stranger to the woman she'd built from nothing. Hurt as an attachment Miranda had already had in place was rejected. Shepard stared.

"I—I never even thanked you, did I?" she realized, a little stupidly. "I never thanked you, for everything you did for me. "You…God, you brought me back to life, and I never even thanked you."

"I understand why you didn't," Miranda said quietly. "You hardly came back to a life you wanted to be in, after all."

"No, I didn't," Shepard admitted. "And to be honest, I'm still not sure you did the right thing. But, Miranda…you did the impossible, and that merits recognition. And—good or bad…" she chuckled a little. "I'm damn glad to be alive."

"You did the impossible," Miranda disagreed. "I didn't think it could be done, Shepard, but we are all alive. You got us out of there." She laughed, too. "And we may be in serious trouble with the Illusive Man, but damn it, I'm glad to be alive, too. We've saved the galaxy together. I…I can't tell you how much it means to me."

She took another sip of her drink, and this time it wasn't just to steady her nerves.

"But it won't be the end, will it?" she asked, after she'd swallowed. "Not just with Cerberus."

Shepard looked her straight in the eye. "No. Miranda, this was just the beginning. Cerberus is the least of our problems, really. God, you thought I'd pissed off the Reapers before? I don't like this Harbinger. They'll be coming now, for real. I don't know how. I don't know when. But I'll just bet it's soon."

"Well, until then, there is a question of what next," Miranda said, rallying. "As Kelly is busy at the moment, I'll inform you that a message came in for you, Commander. From Alliance Command."

Shepard took in a breath. For months the Alliance had been ignoring her transmissions. Now, for whatever reason, they were willing to acknowledge her resurrection and existence again? It could be a way out. But it could also bode very ill. "Alliance Command?"

"Yes. Admiral Hackett, I believe. It's waiting for you at your private terminal."

* * *

**A/N: In case it wasn't clear, everyone did survive the suicide mission and the entire crew was saved. If you were curious, Tali handled the vents, Garrus led the second team the first time and Miranda led the second team the second time. Jack was the biotic that got Shepard through the seeker swarms, and in the end, Garrus led the rearguard while Shepard took on the Human Reaper with Miranda and Thane.**

**My feelings about Miranda are complex. It's not alright that she wanted to implant Shepard with a control chip, and I think that even Paragon!Shepard must have been lying when she says it is in ME3, to make Miranda feel better about herself. I think Paragon!Shepard lies like that a lot, and it's something I will address in the ME3 section of this story. I hate Miranda in the beginning of ME2, but it's like Tali says in ME3. "I didn't like her. Keelah, she was such a bitch. But I respected her. Sometimes that's better than liking." And I do get to like Miranda quite a lot, even past the respect I always have for her. Her friendship with Shepard I think is one of the more equal relationships in the game. At any rate, Miranda will prove to be a key character in my vision for the end of ME3. But this is sort of my tribute to the character. Here's to you, Lawson.**

**And yes, this chapter does end right before Arrival starts. **

**This is also the end of the chronological chapters that I had in revision. I have a few more chapters pending spread through ME3, but they all need work. The punchline is updates are likely to be much slower from now on. Hope you're enjoying, nonetheless. **

**Leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**LMSharp**


	42. Shepard: A Friend in Need

**Disclaimer.**

**Section Warnings: It's basically PG. Translating to fanfiction terms, a K+ or a very mild T. Mild language, mild violence, and I'm not ignoring that bad stuff happens and people have sex, but I'm not shoving it in your face, either.**

**Characters/Pairings: James Vega, OFCs Stace Paxton and Hope Paxton-Lopez. Eventually Shepard/Vega friendship, definitely Shepard/Stace friendship. Stace/Hope family. Mentioned past StacexOMC Tony Lopez, and mentioned ShepardxGarrus.**

* * *

Shepard: A Friend in Need

"Well, you wouldn't let me have a gun. I'm going crazy in here, Vega!"

"Commander, that's just not the way you treat a good kitchen knife," Vega said, looking at the holes in the wall of the living room in the quarters they'd confined Shepard to for the duration of her house arrest. He shook his head incredulously, and picked up the kitchen knife. "You want me to show you? We'll have to sharpen it first, though."

"_I don't want to cook_, Vega. I want to _get the hell out of here._ Preferably to some location that _wasn't_ previously approved by the brass, _unaccompanied_ by your ugly face. And I told you not to call me Commander. They've stripped me of that title." Shepard paced wildly up and down the room. It was a perfectly square section of carpet. Eight paces from side to side. She thought maybe eleven if she walked diagonally, but the damn couch was in the way. She'd been under house arrest for three weeks now.

"Stripes are stripes, Commander. They'll see that. You know I can't let you out."

"You could at least leave me to my prison in peace, then. You could just stand at the door like a good boy. You don't have to poke your nose in here. At all."

Vega smiled that big, toothy, 'aw, shucks' grin of his, which somehow worked despite the bulging muscles and rippling tattoos. Shepard glared at him. "Aww, you don't mean that."

"No. I really do."

"The truth is that Admiral Anderson asked me to keep an eye on you. Aratoht—whatever happened there—"

Shepard stopped pacing. She turned, and stared Vega down, arms folded. "Shut up if you know what's good for you," she said, very, very quietly.

Vega raised his hands above his head, shrugged. "Alright."

Shepard turned away and started pacing again. "The long and short of it is that I'm on suicide watch, as well as under house arrest, then. Not that the whole galaxy wouldn't breathe a sigh of relief if Shepard kicked it. For real this time. Saves them the headache of dealing with me. This is such a waste of time! The Reapers could be here any day!" She sighed, shook her head. "Get the sharpener. What are we making? At least it's something to do."

* * *

"God, I hate that skyline," Shepard remarked one night at Vega's 1900 hour check-in, before he locked her in for the night, left the door outside, and went to his own quarters next door. She jerked her head at the Vancouver horizon, outside the big living room picture window. "Light pollution's so bad you can't see the stars. I tried to get out of this place for eighteen years. Figures I just ended up back here again. Freaking Vancouver." She pointed off to the right, where the buildings were dirtier, more rundown than where the Alliance was keeping her. "I spent my entire childhood right there in that twenty-block sector. East Side. Nasty place."

"Yeah? I heard something about that. Crack houses and whorehouses, right?"

"And crack whorehouses," Shepard nodded. "And about six different gangs all fighting for control of the crime, shooting each other over that twenty-block stretch of shit like it's worth something."

"You been badass from the beginning, Commander?"

"It's Shepard. Just Shepard. I guess you can call me ma'am, if you really must," Shepard said, but without heat. "I had to be, with no one looking out for me down there. That or be gunned down or a strung-out whore myself. Didn't fancy it. Everyone looks out for themselves down there. It's you and yours, and I wasn't anybody's. I couldn't really trust anyone."

"There must've been somebody."

Shepard shrugged. "The kids at the homes, but for the most part they were as lost as I was. The gang. But you realize in the gangs it's all about the gang. Not about your rap sheet or whatever else you wanted to do with your life. They taught me to fight, kept me safe from the other gangs, or the pimps, or whatever. But I had to be careful. Couldn't sell out, or I couldn't get out." She kept staring down at the streets. "There were a couple of them that knew. Friends. They were alright. But the guy that taught me everything I know about tech died in a gang fight, and the other one—my first combat instructor, and tough as nails—she was the boss' girl, and she had her own family to protect. She did what she could for me, but she could only do so much. I couldn't tell her everything."

"Do you know what happened to her?" Vega asked.

Shepard shook her head. "No. The gang I ran with back then—a really bad guy took it over almost ten years back. It's all different now. They killed Lopez—the old boss, who was as decent a guy as a gang leader and crime boss can be, for whatever that's worth. I know Stace and her family got away. Took a few of them down, too, I'd bet. But I don't know where they went or what happened to them. I hope she got out. She always wanted to get out. Not that it'll matter, when the Reapers come."

* * *

There was a knock at the door. "Just come in, James," Shepard called wearily, putting her book aside. She'd read it already, anyway.

The door opened behind her. "Got a visitor for you, Commander, if you're up for it."

Shepard blinked. "I can have visitors?" she asked.

"Hell, yeah! Well, I mean, they gotta be cleared first, and no one…uh, never mind. Do you want to see her?"

Shepard wasn't surprised no one had come to visit her before. She didn't have any friends planetside that hadn't been on the _Normandy_ when she docked, and for all she knew, they were all in deep shit, too. She was political anathema, anyway. Anderson might've come, but he was probably trying to make sure his testimony on her behalf didn't appear inadmissibly biased. Visiting might jeopardize that. So the question was, who'd come? "Uh…sure," Shepard said. "Yeah. Send her in."

Shepard turned around on the couch. James stepped out of the way, and a woman entered the apartment. She was tall, probably close to 1.83 meters in height. Lean, muscled. Dangerous looking. Her straight red hair was pulled very severely back from her face into a plain horsetail. Her pale, freckled face was pretty, but stern, and marred with one long, white scar that went from just beneath her left eye over her defined cheekbone, all the way to just above her upper lip. Shepard hissed in a breath.

"Stace? God, Stace Paxton?"

Stace had been a young woman of twenty-two when Beth had seen her last. She was thirty-six now. The years had written a story of work, laughter, and sorrow all around her eyes and mouth and across her forehead, but it was her.

"Beth Shepard," Stace said in her low voice that always had a bit of irony in the tone.

Shepard stared at Vega. "How did you...?" The kid was grinning like no tomorrow, obviously extremely pleased with himself.

Shepard stepped forward, like she was in a dream. Before she quite knew how it had happened, she was hugging the older woman fiercely, and Stace was hugging her back.

She let go. "Look at you! I can't believe it's you!"

Vega had slipped unobtrusively out of the apartment. Stace looked her up and down. "Look at you! Shepard, all grown up. I told you to tear it up for me out there. Didn't think you'd take it quite so literally."

* * *

Stace shrugged. "You never did tell me for sure, but Meg and I thought it'd be the Alliance for you," she said. "You were a good enough tech the Reds would've kept you anyway. So why learn from me? It was the Alliance or the cops, and I knew you wanted out, but I didn't think you'd do _that_ to us. Anyway, you always had so many books on spaceships and aliens."

"How is Meg, anyway?"

"Meg's fantastic. She married this guy named Stan seven years back, and now I got two little nephews. See?"

She pulled out her wallet and activated a holo. Two auburn-haired, freckle-faced little boys grinned up from the holo.

"That's Zane, and that's Todd," Stace said, pointing to each in turn. "Five and four. They're sweet kids. Meg's taking classes on the extranet now. Gonna be a pharmacist."

"And you?"

"I keep it together," Stace shrugged, putting away the wallet. "I help run a dojo a couple blocks down from here, and bartend on the side. Hope and I do alright."

"Hope! God, she'd have to be, what, thirteen?"

Stace laughed. "Fifteen. Makes you feel old, doesn't it? She's a little badass. Smart as a whip, and a crack shot, too. Sometimes she reminds me so much of you, Shepard. Well, you are her hero."

* * *

Stace was gone, for now. She promised to visit again soon, and maybe bring Hope by one of these days, if they could get her cleared, too. Shepard stuck her head out the door. "Hey. Hey, Vega."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

Shepard looked at her toes. "I heard about Lopez," she said quietly. "How did you get away?"

"That was a long time ago," Stace said, but her face had fallen. "Nash's thugs couldn't touch me. I'm just…I wish Hope had had more of a chance to know her father. We had to lay low for a bit, after that. But it gave me the out I'd wanted. There was that, at least."

"And you never—since Tony—"Shepard asked, a little awkwardly.

"Couldn't find anyone else to keep up with me," Stace shrugged. "Or anyone that I trusted with Hope, anyway." She smiled softly, fondly, like she did whenever she mentioned her daughter. "It's just been the two of us, ever since Meg and Stan got married."

"You love her a lot."

"She's everything to me. Beth, if you hadn't been there, that one day, I might've—"

"—But you didn't, and that's what matters," Beth interrupted.

"I've always been grateful to you, for that."

"I've been grateful to you for a lot of things."

"Yeah. Wonder what the vids would say, if they found out I taught Commander Shepard everything she knows?" Stace joked.

Beth grinned. "Not quite everything. Checkmate."

Stace looked at the board. "Dammit!"

* * *

"Nah, nah, not like that. Like this," James said. "Here, Commander, help me out."

Hope Paxton-Lopez watched as James demonstrated a common turian physical attack on Shepard, making the most of his height and strength, moving with the avian, choppier movements of the galaxy's enforcers. Shepard ducked under James' arm. He was admittedly good, but no actual turian, and not even close to Garrus' level of ability.

She punched up under James' ribcage. "Now on a human, that'll wind 'em," she explained, as James doubled over, swearing. "But turian torsos are even more sensitive than on a human. Those big barrel chests mean they have better lung capacity, but it also means a bigger gap beneath the ribs. A solid punch there, if your opponent's armor is relatively weak and you've got good form or nice gauntlets—that can incapacitate or even kill a turian.

"Then, if you step here—"Shepard stepped hard on the back of James' calf. He fell to his knees.

"Shepard!"

Shepard grinned. "Won't do much to a human except knock 'em over, and that only if you do it really, _really_ hard," she said. James swore at her, and Hope giggled. "With humans, you want to aim lower and to the side. Just above the ankle, or to the back of the knees. Your mom's probably taught you that, though. But turians and quarians both have a spur there that you can actually break. _Massively_ painful, and they won't be chasing anyone _any_ time soon."

James climbed to his feet. "Damn, Shepard."

Shepard batted her eyes. "What? You said to help you show her."

"You are so. Cool." Hope said. "I can't believe it's really you! And my mom knew you!"

Stace smiled from her position up against the wall. "Knew me?" Beth repeated. "I tested out of basic marksmanship and _advanced _hand-to-hand, because of her. Your mom is one badass lady."

Hope shot her mother a warm smile. "I know," she said. "But really—you're Commander Shepard! Your picture's on the buses. You're the first human Spectre. You saved the entire galaxy! _And_ all those colonies out in the Terminus systems. I mean, everyone in the galaxy knows your name, and here you are!"

James and Stace frowned in sudden worry, but Shepard just sighed. "Yeah. Here I am."

* * *

Stace sipped her tea. "You know all about me by now, Beth, but what about you?"

"Didn't you hear Hope last week?" Shepard said. "Everyone in the galaxy knows all about me."

"They don't know shit. What you've done isn't who you are. It wasn't back when I knew you, and it isn't now. Are you okay? Really?"

* * *

"And after Sean, after that, I just couldn't risk it again," Beth said. "I mean, there were guys. Hookups. Short, hot, and sweet. I don't remember most of their names and I never slept with anyone if I thought there was even the faintest chance they'd actually care if they saw me ever again." She grimaced. "Until last year."

"That's a hard way to live," Stace remarked. "What happened last year?"

"It got messy," Beth admitted. "Complicated. Remember Garrus?"

Stace blinked, shocked. "Your turian friend. Wow. Yeah. Complicated."

Beth nodded ruefully. "Yeah. Even without the rest of it, the turian thing made it complicated from the get-go. I never thought it'd work. Not really. And I thought that it'd be casual, anyway. Except when it came down to it, it _did_ work, and it _wasn't_ casual. I let it happen, anyway, though, because at that point I thought we both might die, except we _didn't_. And I let him come back again, and again, until he had to leave, because _he _wasn't involved at Aratoht. He's not human. He's not Alliance, and reading in between the lines, I think he's someone the turian Hierarchy might actually listen to, and someone has to be ready—"

"Beth. Slow down. Complicated. I get it. How long did it go on, between you?"

"Three weeks," Beth told her. "Stace, I think the poor idiot's in love with me."

"Do you love him?"

Shepard shifted, uncomfortable. "No," she said, but even though it wasn't a lie, it didn't feel completely true, either. "I mean…God, Stace, does it really matter? The galaxy's going to hell, and I'm in jail and he's on Palaven, and I can't send out so much as a freaking email. Not even snail mail. I think about him all the time, though. Garrus is my favorite person in the galaxy. My best friend, whatever else we were, or are, or aren't. Whatever. It's like I'm missing my right arm. Don't wish he was here, though. Wish I was _there_, even if I had to wear a stupid radiation suit and the levo sucked."

"Bet it'd be expensive, on a dextro world," Stace remarked.

"You're right," Shepard said. She blinked. "Crap, they've frozen all my accounts."

* * *

Beth Shepard stared at the blank wall. The torn up paint cast ghastly shadows on the wall from where she'd gauged out holes throwing the kitchen knife just after her arrival. "It had to be done," she muttered. "Someone had to make a decision, right then, right there, and I was the only one there to make the call. Either I blew up the relay, and those…" she swallowed. "Three hundred thousand people died, mostly slaves that couldn't even help themselves, but the galaxy's had at least these six months to prepare. Maybe they'll have longer. I don't know. I don't know what the hell they're doing with it. I don't hear shit."

"You wouldn't have been here this long if they'd blown you off right off the bat," James offered.

"Maybe not. But I wouldn't have been here this long if they'd decided to believe me and prepare for war, either," Shepard pointed out. She looked over at Stace.

"War's coming, Stace. It'll be like nothing anyone's ever seen. Nobody, except the Protheans, and they're extinct. The Reapers did that. If we don't get it together, we won't have a chance to survive."

"I believe you, Beth," Stace said grimly. "But what are we supposed to do?"

Shepard sighed. "I don't know. Study the Protheans, more than ever. Find out how the Reapers did it last time around. Build weapons. Make alliances with the other species. Real ones, not the phony politicking that happens on Citadel, but real friendships. The only way this cycle has a chance of surviving is if we all stick together."

"Yeah, but the Council won't listen to the Alliance. Never have," James said.

"Something's gotta give, James. Or we're all going to die."

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to humanize Earth a little. Anthropomorphize the galaxy, as Mordin would put it. One of the reasons I make Shepard Earthborn is because it makes ME3 so much more powerful, when she sees Earth burning. It's not just the human homeworld, it's **_**her**_** homeworld, even if she hated it. Vancouver is her hometown partially for the same reason, but also because I liked making her Kaidan's space neighbor from the wrong side of the tracks, because Jennifer Hale is Canadian so Shepard sounds Canadian, and finally because Vancouver is an ideal big city that could turn into one of Mass Effect's future megatropolises. **

**As I wrote Beth's backstory, I needed OCs to populate it and shape her development. I created them for utilitarian purposes, but certain ones gained real color and personality of their own. Stace Paxton was the most vivid and determined of them. In my head, she sort of became an exploration of what Shepard might have been like if she **_**didn't**_** make it out, if life had situated her someplace where she had responsibilities, and couldn't go running off to the stars. **

**She and Hope kind of forced their way back into the story as Earth and humanity personified for Shepard. The brave, determined people that were dealt an awful hand, but pressed through with love and grit and overcame it. These are the people that will make up Anderson's resistance. Not just Alliance soldiers, but ordinary people that will not stand by and let the Reapers take their home planet, and the ordinary people that will suffer greatly in the fight. **

**Just what ran through my head as I wrote this chapter,**

**LMS**


	43. Shepard: Combat

**Disclaimer: Dialogue you recognize is from the Priority: Palaven mission in ME3. If you don't recognize it, it's probably original or perhaps a conversation option you didn't pick, but either way, rights to the plot and the characters still go to Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Violence. Language.**

**Characters/Pairings: James Vega, Liara, a couple nameless turian grunts, General Corinthus, and Garrus. Infer Shepard/Vega friendship and mentorship. Mentioned Shepard/Anderson, Shepard/Stace, and Shepard/Tali friendship, as well as Kaidan's current dicey condition and Shepard's wish it was otherwise. Past Shepard/Liara friendship, but current unsaid mild Shepard-Liara hostility and distrust. ShepardxGarrus.**

* * *

Shepard: Combat

Over the Menae horizon, Palaven was burning. Entire continents blazed orange and red. The Reapers were black like insects against the flames. Every minute, every second, hundreds, thousands of people died. Turian men, women, children harvested. Reaped.

Liara perhaps had it easiest, but for James, it was a vivid reminder of Earth, also heavily pressed. The surface of Menae was cool, but Vega was sweating, as well as panting in the thinner atmosphere. It was obvious he hadn't seen a lot of combat on alien worlds. His pupils were so dilated with terror they'd almost consumed his irises entirely. His accuracy was almost one hundred percent, but his shots were much slower than they'd been on Mars. He was fighting to control every shot, about ten seconds away from a complete breakdown. The only reason Shepard was able to keep it together was because James needed her to keep it together.

Shepard ejected the last heat sink from her pistol, didn't have time to look for another, so she holstered her pistol and pulled out her assault rifle. "On your three, T'Soni!" she yelled, directing fire that way. "Keep moving! We've got to get to the tower!"

There were husks everywhere, swarming up and down the rocky lunar cliffs, shrieking angrily and without meaning. There were those cannibalistic ones they'd seen back on Earth, too, perverted batarian-human hybrids of some sort. But there were new ones as well. Warped turians, to psych out the turians on their home turf. The tall black figures with wires sticking out of them everywhere and freaking enormous guns had once been friends to the defenders here. Comrades-in-arms, family, lovers. Beth couldn't help but hesitate herself, aiming at those ones. She kept searching the merciless faces for scarring or Cipitrine markings, but every one of the Reaper-turians was barefaced, stripped of everything that had distinguished them as individuals once upon a time and unidentifiable as anyone, like the once-human husks. In the distance, Shepard heard roaring that might be some other, even more dangerous nightmare-creature. But whatever they were, they couldn't be worse than the husks or the Reaper-turians.

The Reapers' ground troops rained from the Reapers in the sky like meteors, leaving trails of fire in their wake and craters where they hit, shaking the ground. And there were always, always more. There were probably assembly lines on the ships, turning corpses into abominations.

Shepard fought with Liara and James at her back. Liara had gotten about ten times better since the old days. Her biotics packed more punch, her firing accuracy was so much more dependable. Shepard had seen that much on Mars. But it'd just been so long since she'd fought with Liara. She'd forgotten how to incorporate her into the team, and she still hadn't adjusted to Liara's new capabilities. And she didn't really know James at all. Not in combat. He was panting so hard she wondered if he was about to pass out, whether from the fear or the thin air. Shepard knew it wasn't really, but she felt like her backside was just hanging out there for the enemy, and she was spending enough time watching James and Liara's backs that her front definitely _was_ open a lot of the time. It wasn't necessary seventy-eight percent of the time, but she couldn't stop watching. She couldn't trust them to handle that twenty-two percent and not get killed on her.

Shepard mounted another hill and got her first visual on the communications tower they were trying to reclaim. "Dead ahead," she called out. "Looks like at least a dozen husks defending, and probably more on the way!"

"Bring it on!" James shouted back. His voice almost cracked beneath the weight of all his false bravado. Shepard ignored it, scooped up two heat sinks off the ground, and kept firing.

It wasn't a long way to the tower, but it was a hard one, and when they got there, the damn terminal was busted. "We can't repair the comm tower from this panel," Shepard said. She swept her eyes over her companions and made a quick decision. "Liara, see if you can repair it from above." She pointed up the ladder, and Liara nodded.

"I'll go up and have a look," she agreed. "If you can keep husks from climbing up behind me I'd appreciate it."

Shepard examined their position. It was relatively defensible. The tower was on the high ground. The hard work had been getting up here, but they had superior weaponry and brain power, and holding it from the husks wouldn't be much of a challenge. Liara climbed up the ladder to fiddle with the comm controls. Around them, Reapers rained more troops.

"Here they come," James said.

Shepard jerked her chin at him, and took the challenging tone to which she'd found James best responded. "You ready to go again, Vega?"

James cocked his shotgun. "Hell, yeah! Let's take 'em."

He sounded better now. More comfortable on the defense than the offense, then. A protector, a good guy. Well, Anderson had charged Vega with her, after all. He was so messed up because he'd failed to guard the people in his charge at Fehl Prime, because he felt like he should be defending Earth now. Shepard switched out her assault rifle for her sniper, took up position right by the tower, and aimed. Fired. A husk's head exploded into green goo like a melon. Again and again and again she fired, and the husks kept coming. Each mindless beast had once been a human being, taken from a human colony, or even from Earth, now. Impaled on a tech spike or put into a tube, the result was the same. A monster the Reapers used as cannon fodder to throw at their enemies until they were worn down or simply overrun. Shepard fired and fired and fired and wondered, even if they got the damn tower working and found the turian Primarch, how long could the turians hold out here against this kind of force? How long could Earth hold out?

Liara's voice sounded over the radio. "Shepard, I've repaired the tower's main satellite connection. On my way down."

Shepard pressed the button on her radio to connect back to General Corinthus' base. "General, do you read? The comm tower is now operational."

"Much appreciated, Commander," Corinthus replied. "I'll contact Palaven Command."

Shepard looked around. "Let me know when you've got something," she said. "I'll help your men till I hear from you."

"Understood," Corinthus said.

"Shepard out."

Over to the right, three turians were climbing the hill. "Friendlies incoming," Shepard called.

Behind her, Liara was a flash of blue, ripping two husks to bits with her biotics. James was on the turians' tails, making sure the husks didn't charge up through their wake and overrun them again.

"We've reclaimed the tower," Shepard cried to the turians as they took up their own defense positions around the top of the hill. "Don't lose it again or you're blind and deaf." Honestly, she didn't know why the base wasn't set up around the tower to begin with. The tower was on higher ground, and outside the walls, it was vulnerable to attack. If the Reapers recaptured the tower and used it as a launching pad for any heavy artillery or missiles, the base below was done.

Shepard used her omnitool to freeze five husks below and James and one of the turians blew them to bits. Shepard stared at the Reapers in the skies over Palaven burning.

_One day soon, it'll be you, and not your once-human puppets. No more. _No more_. _

"Commander Shepard, come in."

That was Corinthus, on the radio. Shepard shot another husk. "Shepard. Talk to me."

"I have information from Palaven Command. Please return ASAP."

Shepard signaled James and Liara. "We're on our way, General." She signed off. "Hold it," she repeated to the turians at the tower.

"Commander."

Shepard plunged down the hill. For now, the approach to the base was clear.

"They'll lose it again within the week," Liara said quietly. Coolly, calmly. Once upon a time, Liara would have wept. Once, she would have asked Shepard a dozen annoying questions about the cruelties of war. Now, she was cold and calculating. It was all numbers and information in her head. Shepard could practically see the digital readouts and email contacts running behind her eyes. The compassionate, awkward archaeologist, replaced by the notorious Shadow Broker, the woman that had sold Shepard's body to Cerberus, just to bring her back. Liara claimed continued friendship with her. Shepard needed her expertise on the Protheans, needed her connections, but she didn't know Liara T'Soni anymore, and certainly didn't trust the Shadow Broker as she'd trusted the archaeologist, however more useful she might be.

"Maybe less," she agreed.

"What? Lola, we worked damn hard to get them that tower back!" James protested.

"So the General could contact Command and we could get our resources for what might actually win this war," Shepard snapped, keeping her voice low so passing soldiers couldn't hear. "This camp might last another day, it might last ten years, but without the Crucible, it _will_ fall, James. Palaven will fall. _Earth_ will fall. _Every civilization now in existence will be made extinct_, just like they have been every cycle for time immemorial. But not if we band together and get the Crucible working. _Not this time_."

James' jaw hardened. His shoulders squared. "I hear you, Commander."

"Good. None of these losses are meaningless. Every one of them matters." Shepard swallowed hard, gripped her gun tight, tried not to think about it. Anderson, Stace and her family, everyone on Earth. Kaidan maybe dying on the Citadel. And Garrus—Shepard breathed in and out and looked steadily at the ground, away from Palaven. She couldn't break. Couldn't give. She approached Corinthus' station. "What have you got for me, General?" she asked.

Corinthus nodded at Liara, "As your partner said, succession is usually simple. But right now, the Hierarchy's in chaos. So many dead or MIA—"

Shepard cut him off. She'd come too far to get a dodge. "-General, all I need is a name. Just tell me who can get us the turian resources we need for this damn war."

"I'm on it, Shepard. We'll find you the Primarch."

Beth Shepard whirled, so surprised she tripped back two steps. "Garrus!"

General Corinthus snapped to attention and saluted. "Vakarian, sir! I didn't see you arrive."

Shepard stared at Garrus, mind racing. What the hell had he been doing, for Generals to salute him like that? Who the hell was he here at home? And God, he was alive, he was alive, he was alive! Over and over again in her head, _Garrus was alive_.

"At ease, General," Garrus said.

"You're alive," Shepard repeated aloud. She cursed herself for sounding so stupid, so relieved.

Garrus stepped forward and took her hand in his. It might have been a handshake, but then he laid his other hand on top of hers, squeezing gently. "I'm hard to kill," he said. "You should know that."

Beth, remembering, looked at the right side of Garrus' face. He'd had to wear a bandage on it for months as the cybernetics had done their job repairing the damage he'd taken. Now it was gone, and the scars had even started to fade. Garrus stood tall, so real, so immediate, and right in front of her with her hand in both of his. Beth clenched her left fist, locked her knees, and bit her tongue until the blood came as everything in her tried to shatter and melt all at once, in a warzone, in front of her people and Garrus' people and the Reapers. She _would_ maintain professionalism.

Nevertheless, her voice shook ever so slightly as she answered. "Good to see you again. I—I thought you'd be on Palaven." Her traitor eyes wandered to the horizon, where Palaven continued to blaze in an ever-brighter inferno. Nausea turned her stomach, but she swallowed, clenched her left hand even tighter. The plates of her gauntlet creaked.

She flexed her right hand subtly, and Garrus took the cue and dropped it. Beth didn't know if General Corinthus was familiar with human gestures and had picked up that Garrus hadn't greeted her strictly professionally, or even quite as an old friend, but Liara, to the left, was smiling slightly.

"If we lose this moon, we lose Palaven," Garrus explained. "I'm the closest damn thing we have to an expert on Reaper forces, so I'm advising."

He'd been able to talk the turians round, then, and they'd proven wiser than the Alliance. Shepard looked around her with new eyes. Maybe the turians would be a harder fight for the Reapers than she'd thought, if Garrus was running the show. She stepped aside, and waved James over. "James, this is Garrus Vakarian. He helped me stop Sovereign and the Collectors. He's a hell of a soldier."

Garrus and James shook hands. Garrus took in James' stripes in a second. "Lieutenant." He nodded at Liara. "Good to see you, too, Liara."

"Good to see you in one piece, Garrus," Liara said.

Introductions over, Garrus turned to Shepard again. "General Corinthus filled me in. We know who we're after."

Corinthus spoke. "Palaven Command tells me that the next Primarch is General Adrien Victus."

"Victus?" Liara repeated. "His name's crossed my desk."

Immeasurably grateful for the return to business, Shepard let herself focus on the mission. "Know him, Garrus?"

"I was fighting alongside him this morning," Garrus replied. "Lifelong military. Gets results, popular with his troops. Not so popular with military command—has a reputation for playing loose with accepted strategy."

Shepard frowned. "What do you mean?"

Liara explained. "On Taetrus, during the uprisings, his squad discovered a salarian spy ring about the same time the turian separatists did. Rather than neutralize the ring, he fell back. He even gave up valuable fortifications, which the rebels took."

Garrus broke in, "Then the rebels attacked the salarians. And when both groups had worn each other down Victus moved in. Didn't lose a man." Admiration colored his tone. Shepard fought a smile. Garrus might be an unconventional turian in many ways, but he _was_ a war nerd with the rest of his species. Just like Allers said.

"Bold strategy, but wild behavior doesn't get you advanced up the meritocracy," Corinthus remarked, but Garrus wasn't listening. He'd never much cared for turian good opinion or advancement, though it seemed he'd finally gained both.

"Primarch Victus," he mused. "That should be something to see."

"He sounds like the sort of man we need at a time like this," Shepard conceded, "But even if he's not, he's what we've got."

Garrus caught her reservations. "He'll do whatever it takes," he assured her. "Reminds me of an old human Spectre I knew."

Shepard glanced sharply up at him. Whatever it took within reason, Garrus meant, if he was comparing Victus to her. That Victus wouldn't stand for any bullshit or red tape, but he'd get the job done right. Garrus' mandibles flared, and he nodded ever so slightly.

Shepard paused. "I see. Let's get him on the shuttle and get out of here," she said.

Just then the radio buzzed. "Commander!" came Joker's voice over the channel. "Shepard! Come in!" He sounded panicked.

"Can this wait, Moreau? We're in the middle of a war zone!"

"We've got a situation on the _Normandy_, Commander. It's like she's possessed—shutting down systems, powering up weapons," Joker reported. "I can't find the source."

The terribly ironic inconvenience of it made Shepard kind of want to laugh and cry at the same time. She bit her lip. "I need the _Normandy_ standing by," she said aloud. "We may have to get out of here in a hurry."

Shepard looked around her. She could help Joker, but she had a mission. Garrus could do it, but she couldn't ask him to leave the battle. She didn't even know if he'd be coming on the Normandy when she left Menae. Oh, God, if he _wasn't_! Beth felt dizzy. Kaidan might know what to do, but Kaidan was in the freaking hospital all the way on the Citadel. Tali definitely would, but she was all the way across the galaxy with the quarian flotilla.

Liara interrupted her thoughts. "Should I go back and take a look?" she asked.

Shepard glanced at Liara. 109, and she had all those computers in her office. She had to know what to do with them, right? "Do it," she said. "Cortez, get Dr. T'Soni to the _Normandy_."

"Aye-aye, ma'am," Cortez said over the radio.

Liara left without another word, and Shepard turned back to Garrus. "You said you were with Victus this morning, Garrus?"

"Yeah, but we got separated," Garrus told her. "He went to bolster a flank that was breaking. Could be anywhere out there."

_Could be dead, _echoed between them. Shepard stared out over the hills. "We're trying to raise him, Commander," Corinthus assured her.

Over the hills, though, trouble was swooping in on metallic wings with a Reaper shriek. "Incoming harvester!" Vega cried. "Headed for the airfield!"

A harvester could carry a couple dozen Reaper troops, more than the Reapers ever rained down individually. And in terms of firepower, it was comparable to a high-end gunship. With dozens of Reapers in the airfield and a harvester, the camp could be overrun in minutes. And if the camp was overrun, Lieutenant Cortez wouldn't be able to land again to pick up Shepard and Vega and the turian Primarch. Shepard drew her pistol and watched the skyline, and was relieved to see the harvester wheeling away again. But they were still in trouble.

"General, tell Primarch Victus we'll rendezvous here," Shepard ordered. If Corinthus was unable to reach Victus in the next half hour, she'd just have to go look for him on foot. She tried not to think about what her options would be if Victus had been killed in action like Fedorian. "In the meantime, let's go take care of whatever that thing dropped off." She jerked her head at the airfield, and as she did, she saw that beside her, Garrus already had his sniper rifle off his back. "Coming, Garrus?"

Garrus' eyes glinted. "Are you kidding? I'm right behind you."

With turians, tone was everything, and Garrus' tone was a celebration, even with Reapers all around, and it was a was just as if Garrus had been waiting to wade behind Beth right into the flames of hell again every day for the six months they'd been apart. Just like old times, on her six against impossible odds, and damned determined to tell the odds exactly where to stick it.

Beth took in a shuddering breath. God, she didn't know how she was supposed to run this war, to be the tip of Hackett's spear, without Garrus Vakarian, but she didn't know how she'd deal _with_ him, either. Seeing him again just made her certain of what she'd started to suspect under house arrest, tried fiercely to ignore when she'd heard Palaven was burning. She'd been an idiot on the Collector mission and let things get too personal, and now anyone that wanted could take Commander Shepard out with a bullet shot at Garrus Vakarian. Shepard couldn't afford to go down if Garrus did. She knew damn well she wasn't expendable in this war, not now that she'd been proven right and the Reapers were here. But she'd be useless without Garrus, now that he was back, and there was no way to guard against the eventuality, no way to plan for things that might reduce the risk or mitigate disaster. She could refuse to let him rejoin the _Normandy_ like she knew he'd want to do, probably with the full support of the turian Hierarchy this time, but then it'd be just like before she'd known he'd survived, not knowing, running like a machine herself, just one second further than the rest of them from losing it completely. And if she tried to go back to the way things had been before she'd gone stupid—she couldn't go back. Not now. She didn't know how she'd run this war, be Commander Shepard, without Garrus Vakarian.

Garrus was watching her, and Beth realized she'd been standing still two seconds too long. She looked out over Menae, over Palaven. The Reapers were worse than a hundred thousand thresher maws. A hundred thousand Akuzes were happening right now all across the galaxy, and because she'd been an idiot, any one of them could do to her at any time what it'd done the first time. Her feet felt like iron, and her mouth was dry as paper, but Beth started running out into combat again to achieve her objective, with Garrus Vakarian at her six. Garrus Freaking Vakarian, epic badass, Reaper slayer, Archangel, bane of the Collectors, the best damn man on any squad she'd ever had. Always trusted, always there, her friend, her shield, and her strong right arm. Never a liability, unless someone somewhere got lucky, and then the best damn way to take her down, too. Shit.

Beth activated her tactical cloak, vaulted a barrier and shot one of the turian-things square in the face, and to the right, a husk on her four exploded with a perfect headshot from a high-powered sniper rifle.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you're enjoying. These chapters are harder than the ones before, but I'm satisfied with this. It's tricky to get the ME3 tone and urgency just right. **

**Leave a review to tell me what you think,**

**LMSharp**


	44. Shepard: Nightmares and Daymares

**Disclaimer: Referenced events from Priority: Tuchanka. All characters are the property of Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Referenced character death. Irresponsible use of prescription medication. Read between the lines and there's an ongoing sexual relationship, and a near suicide attempt. **

**Characters/Pairings: Garrus, Dr. Chakwas. ShepardxGarrus, Shepard/Chakwas friendship/family. Referenced Shepard/Mordin, Shepard/Ashley, and Shepard/Miranda friendship.**

* * *

Shepard: Nightmares and Daymares

Beth sprang up from the sheets in a cold sweat. Tears streamed down her face. In her sleep, she couldn't stop them. The faces still passed before her eyes, the voices still echoed in her ears. Shepard pressed her hands over her ears, squeezed so tight she felt her head might burst. She halfway wanted it to burst.

To her right, Garrus stirred. His eyes opened, and he sat up amidst all the pillows he needed to make the flat human bed comfortable for his turian body. "Nightmares again?" he murmured. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. No. Go back to sleep," Beth said. She looked at the clock. 0200 hours, ship time.

She got up, went over to the desk, and opened the drawer. She got out the cleaning supplies, and went into the bathroom, and started scrubbing. As she scrubbed, she shook violently, shivered.

Dammit! Dammit! How many more? The ghosts that haunted her nightmares could populate a city now. They could make that damn kid from Vancouver the mayor. Jenkins, Pressly, Ashley, Mordin. Whose freaking idea had it been anyway to write the names up on the side of the ship?

Mordin. The metal scrub brush bent in Beth's cybernetically enhanced hands as she scoured the already sparkling shower. He'd been so brave, so good. He wouldn't have had it any other way, but he was _gone_, and if it didn't work? What if she'd lost the salarians completely? Would the full might of the krogan make up for the lack of salarian intelligence and technology? She'd fulfilled the promise she'd made to Wrex all those years ago, but she'd never imagined the cost would be so high.

Mordin had forgotten to turn off his radio. In the end, he'd been singing that stupid little version of the Gilbert and Sullivan song, trying to distract himself from the—

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Garrus came in. "Shepard. Beth. Talk to me," he said.

"I'm fine, Garrus! Just—"she broke off, waved him away.

"Beth, it'll be alright," he said, stooping now, touching her shoulder tentatively.

Shepard shoved him, hard. "I don't need you to be my boyfriend, Vakarian!" she snapped. "I said I'm _fine_! Get out of here! Get some sleep."

Garrus dropped his hand immediately. He stood. For a moment, there was only silence. "Have it your way, then, Shepard." He walked out. There was a rustle in the other room. Garrus pulling on his clothes. Then the door to the cabin opened, and then the door to the cabin shut.

Shepard's eyes felt like burned out craters in her skull, and there had been a throbbing ache behind them pulsing with every beat of her heart for two days straight. Now her throat closed up, too. She sat on the floor for another minute. Then, at a loss for what to do, she got up, left the bathroom, and sat back on her empty bed. Anger, frustration, grief, misery, regret, worry, fear, all roiled in her like a hurricane. Shepard swung her hand out and swept the lamp off the bedside table. It hit the wall and broke into dozens of pieces with a satisfying crash. Shepard snatched up the pill bottle on the corner and glared.

Time was that a sleeping pill would knock her into a dreamless sleep for at least seven hours straight. But not anymore. Not since Cerberus. She'd gone to Doc Chakwas for the stuff she'd used back when she'd struggled with nightmares before, when she'd started having them again. But she'd discovered that with the Cerberus upgrades, a regular dose didn't even leave her yawning. The nightmares came back every single night. She'd upped the dosage to one, two, three more pills, but had never once been able to sleep the whole night through without a nightmare. And she was so damn tired.

So. Damn. Tired.

A wild desire came over her to pour the entire bottle into her hand and throw it all back. It was almost overwhelming in its intensity. She could throw it all back, and if the damn Cerberus upgrades couldn't handle it that fast and all at once, well, at least she could _sleep_. And all the nightmares would be over.

Horrified by the tenor of her thoughts, Shepard flung the pills away from her, bolted up, and out of the room.

* * *

"Have you been there all night?"

Shepard blinked her charred crater eyes and tried to focus them. She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. She made a face. It'd gone cold. "Not all night," she said. Her voice was a rasp, and she cleared her throat. "I was waiting for you."

"Can I help you, Commander?" Doc Chakwas asked.

Shepard stood. "I don't know. I hope so."

She followed the doc into the med bay and swung herself up onto the medical cot. "I haven't slept the night through in two weeks, Mom," she said. The old nickname, always half-joke, half-wish, still made Chakwas smile every time. "If it isn't nightmares, it's daymares, and I can't even stop thinking long enough to try to sleep. I've tried doubling and even tripling your recommended dosage, but the meds just don't work. The damn Cerberus tech burns right through the stuff in a couple hours, tops, and I'm still not sleeping. I'm getting desperate, and I'm getting stupid. I can't keep on like this."

The doc sighed. "Yes, I wondered when you asked if that might be a problem," she admitted softly. "I assumed that if the medication didn't work, you would come to me immediately, however." She smiled ruefully. "I should have known better."

She activated her omnitool and began running the diagnostic mode over Beth's cybernetics again. "I'm afraid I don't know exactly how to help you, Commander," she said. "Obviously you are still human. You still require sleep in order to function properly, but with your anti-toxin upgrades, I don't know if I have a medication that will put you out without dreams for an entire night without shocking the system and killing you outright, or causing a debilitating addiction. Perhaps—"

Doc Chakwas' eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed together. It was the face she always had when confronted with a challenging injury or illness, right before she did something brilliant. "You had full functionality when they woke you from Project Lazarus, correct?"

"Yeah," Shepard said. "I had to have. I was fighting hacked mechs right out the gate."

"Yes, I've heard the story from you and Mr. Taylor. If all your brain and bodily functions were working prior to your awakening, I suspect Cerberus had to have you under some kind of sedative," Chakwas theorized. "Possibly they were hoping to repair all of your scars before waking you—"

"They did!" Shepard recalled. "Once I woke up. The first time, I think. Miranda had Wilson give me a double dose of a sedative—and I didn't wake up again until the mechs were attacking the base. They must have kept me under. You think—"

"You didn't experience any withdrawal?" Chakwas interrupted.

"None."

Chakwas considered. She shut off her omnitool and tapped her gloved fingers on the counter. "Well, it can't hurt to try," she said. "You don't happen to know how to contact Ms. Lawson, Commander, do you?"

Shepard remembered the last trip to the Citadel, Miranda's pinched and pale face, the face of someone hunted, and her anxiety over her sister. "Miranda's got her own problems," she murmured. "But I do have the email address she's been using, yes."

"She'll want to help you, Commander. She was always inquiring about your health back on the Collector mission," the doc assured her. "She was hurt, I think, that you didn't trust her in the beginning, and that she didn't have access to my medical files on you. It was one thing I insisted upon before I signed up."

Shepard hadn't known this before. "Really? Thanks, doc," she said. She nodded then, and brought up her own omnitool. She pressed a few buttons. "Miranda's address is in your inbox," she said. "I'd email her myself, but I don't have the specs of the meds you used, and I wouldn't understand any she used. Probably better if you handle it directly."

"Of course," the doctor agreed. "It will be my pleasure. We need you back up to speed, Shepard." She hesitated. "If I may—"

"Speak your mind, doc," Beth said wearily.

"It might be some time before Ms. Lawson replies and I can work out exactly what medication and dosage you need to help you sleep the night through and requisition or prepare it," Chakwas said. "Until then—"

"I'm giving you back the old meds," Shepard interrupted. "Just—better that way."

Chakwas looked levelly at her. Beth didn't even have to say it. Chakwas knew what the issue might be. "I could certainly use them back," Chakwas said. "You're not the only one having difficulties sleeping, and it's a very good prescription. But in the meantime, Commander, and I don't mean to overstep—"

"Out with it, Mom," Shepard snapped. "You know you can tell me anything, and I don't have the patience for dancing round the mulberry bush right now."

"It's been proven that talking to someone about your dreams can help you go back to sleep afterwards," Chakwas said. "If you were more open with your anxieties, it might even cut back on the dreams, naturally. I understand your position is one of great responsibility. You feel you have to be strong for all of us, for the entire galaxy." Her gloved hand ghosted over Beth's head then and down to rest on her shoulder. "But your shoulders are small, to carry the weight of the galaxy."

"They're broad enough," Shepard said lowly. "They have to be."

"Of course you know you can talk to me any time, Shepard," Chakwas promised. "I'm always here when you need me for anything. But perhaps an army doctor isn't exactly what you need. I know Garrus—"

"I was wrong," Beth interrupted, tensing and pulling away from the doc's hand, still on her shoulder. "You _can_ overstep, Doctor Chakwas."

Doctor Chakwas dropped her hand and smiled sadly. "Forgive me. I'm only worried, as are all of us that love you. I'll contact Ms. Lawson and see if I can't find you a prescription that will help you to sleep. Until then, take care of yourself. I _will_ ground you, doctor's authority, if things get too bad. We can't afford to lose you, Commander."

"I'm aware," Shepard said. She stood, sighed, rubbed her burning eyes and massaged her throbbing temples. "Do what you can, doc. In the meantime, I should go. There's no doubt someplace I need to be and something I need to be doing."

"Isn't there always?"

"Yes." The single word weighed on Shepard's too-small shoulders with rest of the galaxy.

* * *

Shepard stood in the shadows by the workbench, and tried to work out what to say. Her brain was foggy and stupid and her tongue seemed tied in knots, and Garrus was standing over the gunnery terminal, refusing to look at her or help at all.

"I'm sorry." The silence in the battery almost completely swallowed her small, quiet apology. Garrus waited. "I didn't mean—I don't want—please. Just please. I'm sorry. Please."

Garrus shook his head. "Dammit, Beth," he said quietly. "Why can't you just—"

In his voice, in the lines of his body as he hunched over the terminal, Beth could see Garrus was every bit as tired as she was, even if he hadn't been having nightmares. He was still burned out from the cost of this war. He was dealing with almost as much responsibility for the turian Hierarchy as Shepard was for the Alliance. He was grieving Mordin, too, and worry for his dad and his sister was eating him inside out. On top of all that, he had to deal with her. Garrus was tired, too. Bone tired. Soul tired.

"I don't know," Beth answered him. "Garrus—I—"

He pressed a button on the console, and the door to the battery shut. He turned and opened his arms, and Beth walked in and let him hold her, feeling his continued anger and frustration with her in the tension of his body under his armor, the tightness of his arms.

"I think you know where I stand, Shepard," he said, his voice rumbling through his chest under her cheek. "But if you need time—"

"I can't do without you, Garrus," Beth whispered. "And it scares the hell out of me."

"I'm with you, whatever happens. You know that."

Beth pulled away, angry herself now. "Yeah, until someone, somewhere gets lucky. A merc. Cerberus trooper. Maybe a Reaper, and we don't have Kalros handy that day. And I can't airlift you out of Omega before you bleed out, or you're looking the wrong way and miss the other side's sniper, or the ship gets blown to hell and there's no Lazarus Project this time, Garrus. It's not a question of _if_. Not with the shit we pull. It's a question of _when_."

"Personally, I'm still holding out for old age," Garrus said.

"Ridiculously optimistic," Shepard retorted. "Especially for you. If it's me first—Garrus, I've _seen_ where you end up. And I've _lived_ it the other way. I _know_ where I end up, and with everything depending on me—I can't. I _can't_. But _I can't do without you_." More gently, she added, "And I don't want you to do without me."

"I don't want to do without you, either," Garrus said. "I'm _really_ bad at it."

"I don't know," Shepard mused. "Mr. Reaper Advisor. You did that all that on your own."

"Yes, well. Better with you." Garrus ran his thumb over her jawbone. "Don't be a coward, Beth," he said. "It's not like you."

"I can't promise you anything but to try," Beth said. "And I'm so damn tired I'll probably do a lame-ass job of that. But I'll try."

Garrus leaned his head forward until his forehead rested against hers. Patience. Forgiveness. More than she deserved. Beth closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of armor polish and gunpowder and warm metal. For a long moment, they just stood there. A dream, before the next nightmare hit.

* * *

**A/N: I've never written a songfic and I never will, but I like to acknowledge my inspiration when it hits me, so I will say that Daughtry's song "What About Now" is almost always in my mind during this section of the fic ("Shepard" chapters 2-5)—what I imagine as the three months after Garrus joined the crew again but before he and Beth define exactly what they are to one another. I think the song is almost exactly what's going on in Garrus' head during this period. **

**As for Shepard, you can see her falling apart in ME3. All the nightmares, the ever-shorter temper, the bone-deep exhaustion. You can't cover ME3 without going into all the pressure she's under, and what it's doing to her. I think Miranda does eventually help Chakwas formulate a medication that helps her to sleep without developing an addiction, so she won't come this close to physically breaking again, but emotionally? That's another story. **

**Leave me a review and let me know what you think!**

**LMSharp **


	45. Shepard: Prayers for the Wicked

**Disclaimer: Rights to Bioware. **

**Section Warnings: Language. Discussion of Character Death, and Frank Religious Searching.**

**Characters/Pairings: This is a solo Shepard, with references to Shepard friendship with multiple other characters. The romantic pairing is ShepardxGarrus.**

* * *

Shepard: Prayers for the Wicked

_Kalahira, this one's heart is pure, but beset by wickedness and contention. Guide this one to where the traveler never tires, the lover never leaves, the hungry never starve. Guide this one, Kalahira, and she will be a companion to you as she was to me. _

Beth Shepard couldn't get the words of the last prayer Thane had wanted read out of her head. They seemed burned into her brain, but set her skin cold. Dying, Thane still hadn't neglected prayers for the wicked. And this last time, his prayer had been for her.

Huerta Memorial Hospital had a chapel. Strange to find one, Shepard thought, here in the heart of secular space. True, it was completely nondenominational, with no religious icons or holy writ anywhere to be seen but still, a small white room, quiet, with soft lighting. Obviously meant for prayer and contemplation. She guessed even in the heart of Citadel Space, the dying and their loved ones needed a place to talk to their gods, before the end.

She didn't know why she'd come here. Beth didn't know if she believed in any god. Even if she did, was there any god in the whole cosmic canon that would believe in her? A patchwork creature of regrown flesh and tech, brought with science back from the dead? Was there any religion in the galaxy that wouldn't consider her an abomination? But what god would allow Reapers to exist to steal, kill, and destroy? Or what god worthy of honor?

But there was something beautiful about the idea of a guiding force in the universe, something wonderfully freeing about the prospect of forgiveness. So much so, that Beth had distrusted both all her life. They tasted like sweet lies, the kind she told her soldiers when she needed them to keep going when they weren't prepared and the odds were incredibly bleak. That she trusted them with her life, or they were good people despite whatever horrible sins they'd told her, like a confessor. That she thought they'd all get through this and win. They might pull it out, they _might_, but Beth and everyone else in command knew that it was going to cost the galaxy damn near everything. Most of the soldiers knew that, too, most everyone Beth lied to knew she was lying. But they wanted the lie, because it helped them go on. Beth wanted the lie, too. She wanted to be able to believe in a god on their side, wanted absolution for all the terrible things she'd done and would do yet to make sure this cycle survived, to destroy the Reapers.

_Kalahira, this one's heart is pure, but beset by wickedness and contention. Guide this one to where the traveler never tires, the lover never leaves, the hungry never starve._

How the hell had Thane known? Beth had always appreciated Krios' skills. In the end, he'd helped her destroy the base and take down the human Reaper. She'd respected him immensely. But she'd never found him very approachable. It had surprised her that he'd reached out like he had in the past few months, because they hadn't been close. So how the hell had he known what she wanted, what she _needed_ from any god that did or didn't exist?

Strength to go on, assurance she'd never be alone, an end to all the starving she'd seen and she'd felt her entire life. People starved for food, but more, people starved for justice, or grace, or love. People starved for meaning in the madness. And forgiveness.

"God, I need it," Beth murmured aloud. She didn't know who the hell she was talking to. Kalahira? She didn't know Kalahira. Didn't really want to know her. Kalahira, Mistress of Inscrutable Depths, Kolyat called her. Goddess of oceans and the afterlife. Maybe Kalahira gave Thane some peace, but Shepard didn't want to be buddies with any goddess of the afterlife. She wanted to live. She wanted everyone to live. If she did buy into the lie, just for a moment, just because she needed it, she wouldn't seek it from Kalahira.

Beth considered the other gods she knew of. The hanar would pray to the Enkindlers. Shepard laughed aloud, and the laugh rang out harsh and bitter in the still chapel. The Enkindlers! For all their brilliance, the Reapers had defeated the Protheans in the end. That indoctrinated hanar, Looks on the Works of the Enkindlers in Despair, he'd actually followed the hanar religion to a logical end. Further proving logic had nothing to do with what was true. The Protheans weren't gods, and if they were, they were dead gods, and couldn't offer the galaxy anything but their bones, plans for an incomplete weapon. Maybe it'd be enough. But it was vengeance, not forgiveness, and nothing else. Beth could handle vengeance herself.

Long, long ago, one of her guardians had been very religious, Beth remembered. Ms. Miller? No, Ibanez, the one before Ms. Miller. What was the prayer she'd always said? Beth tried to recall. It'd been to Jesus, though. Asking forgiveness from sins, salvation from hell and passage to heaven. A couple times Beth had tried to pray with her. She'd been very young then, not even seven years old. She'd hoped that Ms. Ibanez' Jesus could give her a family. But Ms. Ibanez had laughed when Beth had tried to pray. She'd said Beth was desperately bad. _Beset by wickedness and contention_, Shepard guessed. _"If you don't repent, girl, He won't forgive you. You? You're only ever sorry you got caught."_

Repentance required the intention not to sin again. Or that's what they said, anyway. In that case, Jesus was probably out of the question. Beth knew her sins. Every decision she made to save some at the expense of others was a sin. Who the hell was she to make calls like that? Mordin, dying for the genophage cure. All the civilians that would die because the Crucible would take longer to build without salarian scientist support. Those asari that Rana Thanoptis had killed, because Shepard hadn't killed her. It could've been Kaidan today. On Virmire, it'd been Williams. Each one of them a failure, and wasn't that what sin was? All that innocent blood was on Shepard's hands, on her head, and that was even without the thousands she'd personally killed. Slaves of the Reapers that couldn't help themselves, men and women with lives and stories and families. Three hundred thousand at Aratoht. _Three hundred thousand_. A genocide if there ever was one. Back and back and back, ever since Little Beth had hopped on that first Alliance shuttle, an eighteen year old kid desperate to get out, and sworn her oath of service. Shepard was drenched in blood, saturated with the stuff. But she'd shed millions of liters more before she was done without flinching, whatever phantasms stalked her dreams at night. She did it willingly, because someone had to do it. Jesus had nothing for the unrepentant sinner, no matter how badly she needed absolution.

* * *

_ He'd found her in the bathroom again, staring into the mirror, looking at a stranger. She'd jerked her chin at him. "We've talked black and white before, Garrus," she'd said. "We don't always agree on what that is, but seeing things in black and white is something we have in common. It's always been clear to me what the right choice is before. Sometimes I don't make it."_

_ She hadn't been able to turn around, to face him, but she'd watched him steadily in the mirror. It weighed on her more and more these days, her cowardice, how unfair she was being to him because she was still so scared. _

_ "Sometimes I'm not brave or strong enough. But I tried. I try. Do my duty. I do my best for my people, and I try to act with honor and decency. But now—I don't know. It's all gray. And I don't know what to do with that, either."_

_ He'd understood immediately. Of course he had. "All the questions. Every one of them with a million lives riding on the answer." He sounded about ninety years old. Garrus was barely thirty. _

_ "There's no right answer. No clean, decent way to win this war. Since Aratoht—I don't know. I guess we both just do the best we can with what we know."_

_ He'd come up to stand beside her. "I'm starting to understand why the galaxy needs coldhearted dictators every now and then."_

_ It wasn't funny, but she'd laughed, and answered him in the same tone. "They get things done?"_

_ "They don't give a damn about the consequences," he'd answered. "Suppose that's what it's going to take, Shepard? The ruthless calculus of war. Ten billion people over here die so twenty billion over there can live. Are we up for that? Are you?"_

_ She'd turned to him then. "And if I say I am, what will that mean, Vakarian?"_

_ He'd dropped his eyes. He'd wanted her to say it, that she'd do whatever it took for the war, because that meant survival. But he didn't want it, too. If she said she was fine with ruthless calculus, then all she'd ever told him about what really mattered crumpled in the face of a reality of a war with the Reapers. "I don't know," he'd said, so low she almost couldn't hear him. _

_ She'd stood on tiptoe and kissed the scarred side of his face. "Me, neither," she'd whispered._

* * *

Beth thought of Ashley again. Williams had talked of God often, once she'd realized Shepard wouldn't penalize her for it. Shepard wondered now what god she'd meant, what god could possibly think the universe was the better for taking Ashley and leaving the rest of them without her. Though in the end, that'd been Shepard, hadn't it? Playing God again and doing a lousy job.

A proper god would be able to save everyone. Every damn decision Shepard made, people died because of it. The freaking ruthless calculus of war, whether or not she was up for it. Ten billion people over here die so twenty billion over there can live. Shoot Kaidan so the councilors live. She might thank whatever god she eventually decided to pray to that she hadn't had to make that particular call in the end, except she knew she would have made it. She still didn't know if she'd have shot to kill or not, but just knowing she'd have pulled that trigger on Alenko, on _Kaidan_, even after all he'd done, that was punishment enough.

There was no right decision anymore. No good call. No way to save everyone. No way to save herself. In the Collector Base, Shepard had told the Illusive Man she wouldn't allow fear to change who she was. But war—war was another story. With every day, Beth felt a little more of herself die. She killed a little more of herself with every order.

Her soldiers, too. Steve Cortez was running on autopilot. Traynor pasted on the smile she wore every day. Donnelly got more outrageous every day, desperate to live. Daniels had been cheerful once. Now she grew terser every day for the same damn reason. Shepard heard the whispers, before the crew saw her and stopped talking about Allers' news broadcasts, about which worlds had fallen that particular day. Hackett was cold, hard, but even he was eroding. The strain was apparent in his voice more and more with every call. Would they finish the Crucible before the Reapers had destroyed everything worth saving? What the hell was the Catalyst? How long could they fight Cerberus, too? James wasn't stupid anymore, for her sake, but he was still angry, hungrier every day for the scraps of news they got about Earth. Shepard was almost positive Liara was living on stims, working twenty-four-seven to disseminate information and allocate resources. She went willingly on each ground mission, but Shepard saw the strain on her face, the relief when she was back in her office in front of her terminal, working again. The attack on the Citadel had strained those resources considerably.

How long? How long before it wouldn't even matter that her people weren't indoctrinated or Reaperfied, they'd be so mentally and physically exhausted they'd be useless or even harmful to the war effort? And she was doing that to them. In this life, the traveler _always_ tired.

* * *

_ When there wasn't a ground mission, he camped out in the main battery, just like he'd done on the Collector mission. The damn Thanix always needed maintenance, always needed calibrating, and no one else even came close to knowing as much as Garrus did about it. They encountered Reapers pretty frequently, hunting for left-behind resources in space the Reapers already occupied. Most of the time the stealth drive kept them under the radar, but when they scanned, the Reapers could detect the pulse. So far, every time they'd been able to escape to FTL or to a relay in time, but if they ever couldn't, they'd need that Thanix. So Garrus stayed in the battery. _

_ He'd set up a couple different terminals down there. Since the Primarch had left, Garrus had been receiving even more communications from the turian fleet, and there was one less person to help him with it. One terminal was continuously updating with casualty reports and troop movements and emails from command, but there were the other emails, too. From the Alliance, from various sectors of besieged space, asking for turian support here or there or in some backwater system across the galaxy, while Palaven was still burning. _

_ That was the other terminal. It scanned perpetually for any news on the Vakarians, for any news on his father or sister. No one else came into the main battery. It was Garrus' space. _

_Shepard thought they were probably dead, but she'd never tell Garrus that. To watch all hope leave his face—she didn't know if she could take it. He'd already lost his mother. She hadn't told him that she knew that, either. She hadn't known what to say when it'd been Liara, she hadn't known what to say when it'd been Tali, and they'd lost their parents in combat. The orphan, the foster kid certainly didn't know what to say to the man that had just lost his mother to a slow, degenerative sickness, especially when he hadn't told anyone. God, she wished she did know what to say. More than anything._

* * *

If Shepard could pray to any god for anything, she'd pray for Garrus. She was probably hell bound, anyway. Thane's prayer had done more for him than it had done for her. But Garrus—she wanted better for him.

What did the turians believe, anyway? Beth tried to remember from that crash course in xenostudies she'd taken way back in Basic. She'd never had occasion to talk religion with another turian, and she'd never been inclined to bring up the subject with Garrus. It was something about spirits, though, wasn't it? No formal god or goddess, no gods. Spirits, higher and more powerful than any one person, not good or evil. Right? Spirits of…what had it been?

Curious, Shepard did a quick search on her omnitool. Military units, mostly, it looked like. Or cities or trees or ships. Shepard wondered if the turians would think that the _Normandy_ had a spirit. She smiled, wondering how anyone would tell a spirit apart from EDI. Sometimes, when turians needed strength, or guidance, or inspiration, they asked the appropriate spirit for help.

How would one even begin talking to some disembodied, dispassionate spirit? How would one even know which spirit to talk to, or if they could understand and answer? A spirit couldn't protect, or forgive sins. Beth clenched the back of the pew in front of her so tightly the metal alloy crumpled in her fingers. Shepard looked at it, and laughed.

The wall of the Huerta Memorial Hospital Chapel were blank. The quiet held no answers. The war went on, and she sat alone and empty, unforgiven. But this place had a blessing of its own for those that came searching. Shepard let air fill up her lungs, and closed her eyes, and spoke aloud, not to any god, but to the spirit of the chapel, if there was one.

"The galaxy's going to hell outside this room," she said. "But here, it's still. Here there's peace, and quiet, space to talk and think and decide what's really important. Uh…spirit? Could you send it with me as I go? I really, really need it. If there's never a ceasefire, at least give me moments like this where I can rest. If there's no guarantee of a future for life as we know it…if I have no future…at least give me times to cherish the past and my present. And…and if there's no forgiveness, at least remind me so I never, ever forget the impact of the decisions I make. And, if you can help me—can you give me enough to give away, too? I mean, the entire galaxy needs all that as much as I do right now. But I'd be happy…I'd be satisfied if I could just have enough for…enough for one more person. Enough for him, too. Uh…thanks."

Shepard opened her eyes and stood. She felt a bit silly, but also a bit, the tiniest bit better. She thought of Kolyat, making arrangements on the other side of the hospital for the disposal of Thane's body. She thought of the many arrangements all over the Citadel for the disposal of all the people Cerberus had killed. She thought of the arrangements she didn't have to make for Kaidan's body, because he was still walking around in it. She nodded once, and walked out of the chapel.

* * *

**A/N: I'd like to take a moment to say that Beth Shepard is in no way an author avatar. She speaks and does things I would never do in a million years, and her beliefs or lack thereof are no reflection of my own. They're what I feel is a logical extension of her character. **

**In the same way, the mentioned OC Mrs. Ibanez is not supposed to be a poster child for Christians, or any branch of Christianity. She is a negative character, legalistic and judgmental, but that says more about her than it does about her religion, and the intention was to portray the negative spiritual impact she had on Beth rather than set her up as any straw figure to burn in lieu of Christianity. **

**If this were a different story, I might write a very different scene for Beth in a chapel, and she might find that there is salvation and forgiveness for someone like her, after all. But this is **_**The Disaster Zone**_** in the middle of the war with the Reapers, and in **_**The Disaster Zone**_**, Commander Shepard stands alone and unforgiven, and only she can save herself and everyone else, however unprepared she feels for the job. **

**I pray you don't live there. **

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp **


	46. Shepard: Sanity Check

**Disclaimer: Characters and events belong to Bioware and the Mass Effect series. Any inspiration I take from them and any fic I write from that inspiration is here disclaimed.**

**Section Warnings: Honestly, this is a very, **_**very**_** light PG. Very, very mild T, or perhaps even a K+. Mild language, responsible drinking, and a single mild if blunt reference to an ongoing sexual relationship. **

**Characters/Pairings: Kaidan. Referenced ShepardxGarrus, prior one-sided Kaidan-Shepard. Shepard/Kaidan friendship. Specifically mentioned Shepard/Jacob/Jack/Grunt friendship, but really Shepard/ME2 crew friendship.**

* * *

Shepard: Sanity Check

"If you're trying to butter me up, it might take a nice steak sandwich, too."

"That your way of trying to pass the bill, Alenko? Thought this was your treat. After all, you _do_ make more than I do now, _Major_."

Kaidan's ears turned red. "It's just a title. Everyone knows you're running the show, Shepard."

Shepard leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Uh-huh." She let him sweat it for about two seconds, then grinned. "Ah, I hate the speeches and ceremonies anyway. Stuffed shirts think it makes you important or something." She raised an eyebrow at Kaidan.

"C'mon, the Spectre thing? That was a big deal!" he protested. Shepard kept grinning. Kaidan narrowed his eyes. "You're messing with me."

"You do make it easy." Shepard flagged the human waiter. He saw her, and nodded to signal he'd be over as soon as he finished serving his other table. "So?"

Kaidan looked at the menu again. "Shot of whiskey and a good old Canadian lager. Think they have it?"

Shepard grimaced. "More likely to have batarian shard wine. Sorry. They don't know good."

"I know, right? Well, I guess when in Rome."

The waiter came over, and Shepard glanced at the menu one more time. "A couple of glasses of Cyone Cobalt, and keep 'em coming," Shepard said, naming the asari liquor she'd found that tasted most like the stuff from back home. "Also a bowl of the Thessian calamari gumbo, and the Alliance special for my friend here. On me."

"Shepard—"

"Kaidan." Shepard looked across the table, and Kaidan raised both his hands.

"Right away, Commander Shepard," the waiter said, taking their menus. "It's my genuine pleasure." He scurried away to put in the order.

"Just don't ask what kind of meat makes up the steak in the sandwich, and you'll probably be fine," Shepard told Kaidan in an undertone.

Kaidan crossed his arms. "I'm sensing you have your own agenda for this sanity check, Shepard," he said. "What's up?"

Shepard steepled her fingers and looked over the top of them at her friend. "You did well on Arrae. It was good to work with you again."

"Yeah, still trying to wrap my head around that one. Over 40 people, and we saved them. Command's got to be grateful for the help. Your man Taylor's good. You heard from him?"

"Jacob's just fine. They patched him up and he's with the rest of his people helping Hackett. But that's not what I wanted to address."

The waiter came over with their glasses of Cyone Cobalt. Shepard nodded thanks without looking at him, picked up hers and threw back a sip immediately, ignoring the burn. "Arrae was smalltime," she told Kaidan. "We're headed behind the Perseus Veil next, and I need to know I can trust you, Alenko. I think I can, but I need to be sure."

Kaidan went still, and his hand closed around his glass. "Ah. I'm not sure I like the sound of that. Am I in trouble?"

Shepard hesitated now. "Permission to speak freely, Major? As your friend and your fellow soldier, do you think we can take some time to be honest with one another?"

Kaidan slumped a little. "I kind of thought this was coming," he confessed. "We're not actually good, are we, Shepard? Like you said back in the hospital."

Shepard smiled sadly. "You needed to get better. I told you what you wanted to hear. Now you're better, I think you can take a real talk about exactly where we stand."

Kaidan took a generous gulp of his own drink. "Fair enough," he said. "Alright. Hit me."

"Here's how this works," Shepard said. "First me, then you. I'm betting you've got some things to say, too. It's only fair if I listen, too. Got it?"

"Got it."

Shepard closed her eyes a moment, ordered her thoughts, and then spoke. "Back on the SR1, when we went up against Saren. I trusted you more than anyone else."

Kaidan frowned. "I know I wasn't your best guy, Shepard. Don't flatter me."

"I didn't say you were my best guy, Alenko," Shepard retorted. "Although you were damn good. Always reliable, and you're even better now. I said I _trusted_ you more than anyone else. You have the clear head. Now, you're nosy as hell, and too inquisitive for your own damn good, but that also means you see things I don't, sometimes. And you don't get pissed, when I do. Back then, I relied upon you, and I thought you trusted me, as your commander, and as your friend."

"I trusted you then, Commander. I trust you now," Kaidan said.

"Maybe so. Now." Shepard said coolly. "But you didn't always, and when you said you trusted me on Mars, it was a damn lie."

"I guess like you lied in the hospital when you said we were good," Kaidan said bitterly.

Shepard took another sip of her drink, steeling herself to get through this. "Take it like a man, Kaidan," she said. "We're only going through this so you know the score, because you're a damn good soldier and a good man that deserves some honesty, and because you're my friend."

Kaidan looked down at his glass. "Okay. Yeah. Go on."

Shepard nodded, and didn't look away from his face for a second. "On Horizon, when we met again and I told you how things were and asked for your help, I could have really used you. I knew Cerberus couldn't be trusted, but they were the _only ones_ doing something about the Collectors, and the Reapers. I needed their help, but I knew I'd need out, too, and I needed the help of people I trusted to get out when it was time. I managed that without you, in the end. But on Horizon, I didn't know that I could. On Horizon, you broke trust."

"I—I know," Kaidan said, downing the rest of his drink in one. "I just—you don't know what it was like, Shepard."

"So tell me."

"I was at the controls of the escape pod," Kaidan said, eyes almost three years away, watching the sky over Alchera. "I could see the heat signatures and life sign readings all around. I _saw_ the _Normandy_ explode. I _saw_ you get blown back. I _saw_ you—"

"So did Joker. So did Chakwas. Try again, Kaidan."

Kaidan clenched his fists. "How could I know that you were you?" he demanded. "How could I know you weren't some Cerberus zombie?"

The waiter came with another glass for Kaidan. "_I_ didn't know I wasn't some Cerberus zombie," she retorted. "But that _you_ thought so made it so much worse, Kaidan. _You_ have the clear head. I trust your judgment. I—I _needed_ you to believe I was me. And you didn't."

Kaidan sighed and shook his head. "I never meant to hurt you, Shepard. You have to know that. After you died—God, that's still so weird to say."

"You're telling me."

"You changed my life, Shepard. You were the best CO I ever served under, and a good friend. When you died—I'd _just_ put you to rest when you came back wearing Cerberus colors. I didn't want to believe it was you. I couldn't—I couldn't deal."

Shepard looked at him. "Well," she said. "I understand that," she admitted. "And to be honest, I understood your reservations, too, even on Horizon. I understood when you didn't back me up. In your place, I would've done the same damn thing. Probably wouldn't have been as nice about it."

Kaidan chuckled a little. "'Probably.' You'd have blown me to hell if it'd been me."

Shepard conceded the point with a tilt of her head. "If I were completely reasonable, everything would have been okay."

"What a shame people don't work that way," Kaidan said. "Guess it's how we know you're human." He took another drink.

"I guess it's one way."

"So. Is that it, then? I broke trust? Will that ever be good?" Kaidan asked heavily.

Shepard shook her head. "Kaidan," she sighed. "I was over Horizon months ago. Like I said, would've done the same damn thing or worse, and I made it without you, in the end. What I still can't understand is why you never gave me a chance to explain until you were forced to see and work with me again."

Kaidan looked confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Vancouver. I was there for six months just kicking my heels. And you were there for what? At least a couple of days before the invasion. You could've got cleared, we could've talked—"

Kaidan's face cleared with understanding, and he shook his head. "I couldn't," he interrupted.

"What?"

"I couldn't get in. I was judged a security risk."

"A security risk? Like, they thought you might bust me out or something?"

"Or tell you something they didn't want you to know, yeah," Kaidan smiled. "I was with you on the SR1, Shepard. I helped you steal the original _Normandy_ for the Ilos run, against the Council's orders and against Alliance command. Sure, we saved the Citadel, so I got fast-tracked for it. But damn straight Alliance brass remembered I chose you once before."

Beth stared. "I never—"

"I wanted to come see you, Shepard," Kaidan promised. "To ask you why before the Reapers invaded and started tearing the galaxy to pieces. Or just to talk."

Shepard searched his face, and she believed him. She'd never once considered that Kaidan had tried to come see her and been denied, but now he said it, it seemed so blatantly obvious. All the anger and confusion she'd felt upon seeing him in Vancouver and since drained away, leaving Shepard feeling a little empty, and very awkward. "Okay," she said.

She held out her hand across the table, and Kaidan took it. They shook.

"Okay. That's it for me. I'm good, Alenko. Horizon—it's over and done with, and back when that shit went down with Udina—I didn't have a shred of proof on me when I burst out of that elevator, but you trusted me, and acted on that trust. So I know I can trust you, and I'm good."

Beth took a sip of her drink, looking away in embarrassment. The waiter arrived with both their lunches. Shepard poked at her gumbo with her fork, and Kaidan picked up his sandwich. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "Not the same as beef," he remarked after a moment, and set it down. "I guess it's my turn, huh?"

Shepard gestured for him to continue. "Be my guest. I'm guessing you have questions, too." She smiled slightly. "You always have questions."

Kaidan tried to catch her eye. "Since we're taking this time to be honest. You lied to me in the hospital, Shepard. Told me what I wanted to hear, because you needed me to get better. Did you do the same thing when I came to you after what went down with Udina?"

Shepard had known this was coming, but it didn't mean answering made her any less sick. "Not completely," she confessed lowly. "Kaidan—I don't think I would have killed you back there. But if I'd had to, if you hadn't backed down—I _would_ have taken you out of play." She nodded at Kaidan's shoulder, at the nerve bunch that if targeted would keep someone from pulling the trigger of a gun, or making the gestures biotics used to channel their energy fields. "Put you straight back in the hospital, but you'd've lived to fight another day," she murmured. "Can you live with that?"

Kaidan's hand reflexively went to his shoulder, as if he felt the phantom bullet there that Shepard would have shot at it. He looked troubled. "Why?" he asked.

Shepard took a drink, and now she forced herself to look him dead in the eye, to face up to the truth. "We need the councilors, and Udina would've killed them. I don't like that I would have shot you, Kaidan. I hate it, actually. But I'd have done what was necessary. _Can you live with that_?" she repeated.

Kaidan was quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. Beth waited, considering the email she might need to write Hackett when they got back to the _Normandy_. She wouldn't reassign Kaidan if she didn't absolutely have to, but if he couldn't give his best effort to a commander that would have shot him, then she wanted him used to his best effect somewhere else.

At last, Kaidan looked up. He seemed surprised at the conclusion at which he'd arrived. "I think so," he said. "I think I get it. You do your duty, for all of us. Sometimes it isn't clean." He nodded once, sharply, deciding. "I don't like it, Shepard, but I get it. And I'm glad you told me."

Shepard took a deliberate bite to keep from breathing a sigh of relief. She swallowed. "Thank you for understanding," she said. "Open lines of communication go a long way," she remarked. "It's something I started working on back on the SR1 but I didn't fully get until last year. The Collector team was…different from an Alliance vessel, to say the very least. Half the time I felt like I was doubling as a damn therapist. Or somebody's mother." She made a face. "I love them all, though. I miss them."

"Yeah, I, uh…I had the pleasure to meet one of your old crew here on Citadel a few weeks ago," Kaidan said. "Not Taylor." A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Alliance business."

Kaidan's expressions said it all, and Shepard grinned. "Jack?"

"Yeah. Yeah. She's...uh…she's something."

Shepard laughed out loud. "You should've seen her fresh out of Purgatory. A prison ship, not the bar. She's mellowed out."

"Somehow, I don't want to know what she was like before."

"I had a baby krogan, too," Shepard told him. "Well, sort of. Almost full grown, but he was tank-bred, so sometimes he still acted like a kid. We had to detour for his coming of age ritual. It involved killing hordes of varren, klixen, and a giant thresher maw. On foot."

Kaidan choked on his sandwich, and coughed. "You're kidding me."

Shepard shook her head in mock-sorrow, beaming like a maniac. "Wish I was," she said gleefully.

"That sounds…fun."

"Well. Grunt certainly had the time of his life," Shepard said. "And any day I can kill a thresher maw is a good day, in my book. I loved watching the thing explode." She knew she sounded vindictive. She didn't mind vindictiveness against thresher maws. She would always hate the things, even if Kalros _had_ killed a Reaper. And anyway, it was a good story. "I also headbutted a krogan that day."

"Now that I'd've liked to see," Kaidan said.

"Yeah, had a pounding headache and it was murder on my neck for the next two days, but it was so worth it just to see the look on Uvenk's stupid face. We ended up killing him, too, after the thresher maw." Kaidan raised an eyebrow, and Shepard raised her hands. "He tried to kill us first," she insisted.

"A lot went down last year, huh?" Kaidan asked, and now the happy tone left as Shepard realized they'd come to the next question. The big question. She closed her eyes and downed the rest of her drink. The waiter came with a new one immediately. He'd been watching. Shepard resolved to tip generously.

"You got something to say, Kaidan, just say it," Shepard said quietly.

Kaidan shifted uncomfortably. "It's probably none of my business," he said.

"If it's what I think it is, it's definitely none of your business," Shepard corrected. "But I'll answer you anyway."

Kaidan looked at her, and his ever-present politeness wasn't enough to quash the damn inquisitiveness. "Okay, I'll bite," he said in a rush. "Back on the SR1. There was a time when I thought there might be…that there might be something between us. More than fellow soldiers, or friends. But you said that you didn't break fraternization regs. That it was one rule you'd never break. But I get back and I find out you and Garrus have—"

His face was bright red, and Beth decided to put him out of his misery. "That I'm sleeping with him," she said levelly. "Regularly."

Alenko looked like he wished the floor of Apollo's would open up and swallow him. "You're right," he said "It's none of my business."

Shepard crossed her arms, evaluating. "Just tell me, Alenko, are we dealing with a bruised ego here, or worse?"

"What? No!" Kaidan said. "You called it on the SR1 and you were right. I'm just—I'm just trying to understand the inconsistency here."

Beth nodded briskly. "Bruised ego, then. That's easier. I didn't mean to start anything with Garrus. I don't fraternize. Well…I didn't. But I thought we were all going to die on the Collector mission. And Garrus—at first it didn't look like it'd be anything serious."

Kaidan studied her. "So back on the SR1, when I…expressed interest—"

"I didn't want to hurt you, Kaidan," Beth explained. "I don't. I'm not anything like what you really need, and I certainly wasn't back then. It wouldn't have ended well. You wanted more than I was prepared to give. I—I'm not in the habit of letting people in." She looked at the table. "Damn," she swore softly. "And here I thought this would be easier. I don't know what the hell happened with Garrus. But I—I—"she broke off.

Kaidan's face softened. He seemed to get it for the first time. "It's weird, but it makes sense, you and him," he offered. "You're good together. I mean, I wouldn't ever want to be the poor bastard that crosses the two of you. Together you're…more than intimidating, you're _terrifying_, but you work well together. Always did. Even back on the SR1."

Shepard smiled fondly, remembering. "He was a damn hothead back then. He's grown up a bit."

Kaidan frowned. "Guess he'd have had to," he said. "Those scars…I've heard some stories."

"Archangel?" Shepard asked, guessing which stories Kaidan meant. Kaidan waited for her to confirm or deny the rumors. "It's true."

"Three merc gangs on Omega?"

"Yep."

"Fought them cornered alone for days on end?"

"Yeah."

"Took a damn _rocket_ to the face, and it still didn't kill him, and the merc gangs still haven't completely recovered from what went down?"

"All true." Shepard wondered, not for the first time, just how much cover-up Aria had done to get the gangs fighting in the wars, or to make sure it'd be safe for Shepard to aid her on Omega a month or so back, even alone. She decided, not for the first time, that she really didn't want to know.

Kaidan whistled. "I would _really_ hate to be the poor bastard that crosses the two of you," he repeated, even more emphatically. "So. You two. You say it wasn't serious to begin with. Is it now?"

Beth had finished her gumbo a while back, but she poked at the bowl with her fork anyway. It was something to do with her hands. "Well. It's not casual," she said.

Kaidan's warm brown eyes searched her face, and somehow, she felt like Alenko was really seeing her for the first time. Not Commander Shepard, not some goddess of his idolatry or a traitor imposter in Cerberus colors, but really seeing _her_, Beth Shepard. "And if you're not in the habit of letting people in, I bet that scares the hell out of you," he said gently.

Beth didn't answer him.

Kaidan nodded slightly and smiled, just a little. "Alright. I'll leave it," he said. "Shepard, what's your status? Really. You can tell me."

"The war?"

Kaidan nodded.

"I'm barely holding it together," Shepard told him. "I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, but unless I keep doing it, the Reapers will kill us all."

Kaidan processed this. "I get that," he said. "But you know, I feel good about our chances."

Shepard took a drink and didn't look at him. "Do you?"

"No, really," Kaidan pressed. "Lets me sleep better at night, to know that you are running this show, Shepard."

"You all think that'll help," Beth sighed. "Let me know how much you believe in me, how much you trust Commander Shepard to pull this off. Kaidan, all it really means is that when I screw up it hits everyone that much harder." She shook her head and waved off Kaidan's response. "Never mind. Tell me: is it the nightmares or the headaches keeping you up? Did Doctor Michel ever fix the problems with your implant?"

"Well, you never really fix the problems with an L2 implant," Kaidan hedged.

"Kaidan."

He gave up. "I'm stable, Shepard. The headaches are worse, but my biotics are reliable in the field, and I'm not going to whine about it."

"That's not my concern. You never do. Just go see Doc Chakwas if you need anything. That's an order," Shepard said.

Kaidan smiled. "Aye-aye, ma'am. You know, I'm glad we did this. I feel like we'll be better under fire now. Damn, that sounded way less awkward in my mind." He made a face.

Beth laughed. "Here's to us, Alenko," she said, raising the last of the Cyone Cobalt to him. Kaidan touched glasses with her, they drank, and Shepard gestured to the waiter for the bill.

* * *

**A/N: And now for a much-needed break from all the angst. A sanity check for my readers, as well as for Kaidan and Shepard. This is my answer to Kaidan-bashing and accusation fics. I decree that adults can reasonably discuss their issues! Furthermore, that a guy once interested in a girl can get over it and support her new relationship! Finally, that men and women can actually be just friends! Shocking, I know. Unbelievable. Next thing I'll be saying faster than light space travel is actually possible. **

**Well, I am writing a Mass Effect fanfiction.**

**Seriously, though. I like Kaidan. I do. I understand him. He's rational until he isn't, suspicious but also merciful, uptight and introverted and harder on himself than anyone else is. I get Kaidan. I have no desire to bash him, but his actions need explanation. So this chapter is his space to explain himself. It actually never occurred to me before he said it that the Alliance forbade him from visiting Shepard under house arrest. I was so mad at him. But when he had, I was like, oh! Of course! Why didn't my paranoia realize that the little Ilos stunt would certainly be in his record and affect his clearance, especially as far as Shepard goes? Then I just couldn't be mad at him anymore. So sorry if you wanted more drama, this is what came out. And I like it. **

**I reference the Omega DLC up there. That's another interesting idea. How much cover-up does Aria do for Shepard to keep both Shepard and the merc gangs as allies? It seems to get out sometime in ME2 or 3 that Archangel isn't actually dead, and Aria's obviously referring to Garrus when she says she doesn't approve of some of Shepard's allies in the DLC. So how many people know Archangel is Garrus Vakarian, or even merely that Archangel is allied with Commander Shepard in some way? How much does that mess with the stuff Aria tries to do (does) in ME3? Not something I necessarily want to explore, but well worth exploring. **

**As far as the DLCs go, I got a review a while back. I usually reply via PM to my reviews, but as this one was anonymous, I couldn't. So dghornick—I understand your confusion. Theo, one of the kids in the last foster home Beth lived in, was indeed supposed to be on the autism spectrum, and I do mention him again in "Awakening: First Name Basis." But Theo isn't David Archer. He doesn't have a brother, and he isn't supposed to be a reference to the Overlord DLC. Thank you for your review. **

**Until next time, lovely readers!**

**LMS**


	47. Shepard: Can Off the Citadel

**Disclaimer: Much of the dialogue I lifted from the ME3 Garrus romance. The dialogue that I didn't I hereby disclaim. Intellectual and property rights go to Bioware, and I'm not getting paid for this. (Wish I were….)**

**Section Warnings: Language. Sexual reference and wordplay. Mild T.**

**Characters/Pairings: ShepardxGarrus**

* * *

Shepard: Can Off the Citadel

Garrus had rented a skycar, gray and sleek and dangerous looking. He was leaning against it, waiting. He caught sight of her coming and stood. "Shepard. Glad you came."

"What'd you have in mind?" Beth asked.

"Something that doesn't involve fighting Reapers."

Shepard snorted. "I don't think they've conquered the bar yet."

"I already scoped it out," Garrus said. "But then I thought if this was my last day alive, I'd actually like to remember it."

There it was. Vakarian trademark pessimism, with the sardonic tone that said whether they got blown up by a giant Reaper or not, it was damn sure going to be spectacular. Beth smiled. "So?"

"So I had an idea." He walked around the car and sat in the driver's seat. Shepard raised an eyebrow. Garrus knew she liked to drive. But, nevertheless, she was intrigued that he was taking the initiative this time.

She climbed into the passenger's seat, and Garrus put the skycar in gear and flew up.

"So. Where we going?" Shepard asked.

"Somewhere we're not supposed to," Garrus said.

It was amazing how Garrus fluctuated so often between beautifully, adorably dorky, and heartstoppingly sexy, Beth reflected. "Now you're talking."

"Ever have that one thing you always wanted to do before you died, Shepard?" Garrus asked.

"Well, there was that one time I just had to drop that sexy vigilante on my squad before we all got killed wiping out the Collectors," Shepard drawled.

Garrus laughed. "Still trying to make me blush, huh?"

Beth grinned. His neck was flushed blue, and the cute thing was he thought she didn't know. "So. What's your one thing?"

"The whole time I worked at C-Sec, I'd stare up at the top of the Presidium and say to myself, 'I want to go up there,'" Garrus told her. "But I never did. There were 137 regulations telling me I couldn't."

Beth's heart started beating a slightly faster rhythm against her ribs. "So, what, you got them changed?" she asked.

"No," Garrus said. "Now I just don't give a damn."

Beth sat forward in her seat, looking out the front eagerly now. "Well, what the hell?" she asked. "It's not like they can afford to arrest us. We're saving the galaxy."

"Exactly," Garrus said, landing and parking the skycar. "Figured it's time to do something stupid, just for the hell of it. Might be the last chance we ever get."

Beth stepped out of the skycar, and looked out. Garrus had parked the skycar at the very top of Citadel Tower. The five arms of the Citadel stretched around them, and the wards within the arms buzzed busily. Below, she could see the entire Presidium. Lakes and grass, glittering buildings and glittering people. Artfully arranged trees and flowers, all in miniature, from way up here. And above—Beth looked up. The mass effect fields holding the atmosphere of the Citadel in were mere meters away, and beyond the clear envelope—stars. She could see the stars, closer than she ever could behind the _Normandy_'s observation windows. She felt she could almost touch them.

"Garrus—it's incredible."

Garrus, for all he'd always wanted to come up here, wasn't taking in the view. He was watching her. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope it would inspire a certain mood," he admitted.

Beth turned to him and smiled gently. "It's okay, Garrus," she said. "I'm ready to talk."

Garrus blinked. "You are? Good…I mean—what do you say? Are you ready to be a one-turian kind of woman?"

"What, like there's been someone else?" Beth raised an eyebrow. "Think you'd have picked up on that if there were."

Garrus' mandibles flared in appreciation. "I should hope so, but that's not what I meant."

Beth walked past him, looking out over the entire Citadel and up at the stars above. "I know what you meant," she admitted. She'd known this day was coming, and now the time had come she was filled with an odd sort of peace. "Thanks for waiting. I know I've been horrible these last few months."

Garrus came up to stand next to her. "Only a little," he lied. He took her hand.

"I still don't know what's going to happen," Beth said. "But it's like being up here—dangerous, against all the rules I'd ever set for myself—"she laughed. "But I guess I've finally decided I just don't give a damn."

After months of struggle, in the end it was easy, saying yes, giving in. And now all the conflict was gone, and Beth was…just happy, even in the middle of all the madness. At peace, even though the galaxy was at war.

"So you're really doing this. With me all the way?" Garrus asked, as if he couldn't quite believe it, even though he'd asked.

"All the way," Beth confirmed. "I need you, Garrus. At my six, by my side, in our bed. _Always_. You keep me honest, you watch my back. I fight better with you beside me, and you're my best reason for fighting. You're my strength, my right arm, and making you happy is the best damn way to make me happy, too. Everything means more with you in my life, and _I cannot do without you_. I _won't_. There is no Shepard without Vakarian, and I don't want there to be. Ever."

Garrus raised his other hand to cup her face. "There won't have to be," he promised. "Wherever you go, Beth, I'm there. When I heard about Earth—the worst part about the galaxy going to hell would have been never getting to see you again."

"Well, here I am," Beth smiled. "I'm keeping you, Vakarian. You're stuck with me." She turned her head to the side and kissed his palm. "I love you, Garrus."

After everything, this threw him. "Wow," he said, somewhat dazed. "The vids Joker gave me—well, they never got this far. There was the part about sleeping together, but this is—I don't know exactly—"

And there was the dork again. Beth grinned. "Shut up," she said.

In three months and three weeks, their time apart discounted, Beth had kissed almost all of Garrus Vakarian at one point or another, except his mouth. She'd always been a little worried about an allergic reaction to the saliva exchange—that he'd have one, even if she didn't. She knew what to do if he did, but she'd never risked it. Now, though, she decided to take the chance, and she kissed him squarely and soundly on the mouth.

Garrus blinked, and pulled back suddenly. "That was something I'd always wondered about," he remarked. "The…uh…the research-"

"Porn," Beth said flatly.

"_Research_," Garrus insisted, "Seemed to indicate humans showed affection that way. I'd always thought maybe the teeth…"

Beth laughed. "The saliva exchange, actually," she explained. "I'm fine, but I didn't want to make you sick, even though I know what to do if…mmpf!"

Garrus grabbed her suddenly, and his mouth covered hers, crashed into it, cutting her off midsentence, and oh _God_, was that his…

When Garrus pulled back, only his arm around her kept her from falling over outright, and possibly off the top of the Presidium. Death by a kiss. What a way to go, Beth thought dizzily. She reflected that she'd most definitely opened Pandora's Box, and _God_, was she glad she had.

Garrus was definitely smirking as he looked down at her, still supporting most of her weight. "There's another phrase that feels clinical and dirty," he remarked. "Saliva exchange." He leaned down again to give her another absolutely breathtaking, spine-dissolving turian kiss. "Screw it," he said against her lips.

Beth moved her fingers under his fringe and grinned up at him wickedly. "Yeah," she said. "_Definitely_."

Garrus' blue eyes flashed. Beth loved his eyes. "You are never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?" he growled.

"Nope," Beth confirmed cheerfully, popping the 'p.' "_Normandy_?" she suggested.

Garrus stood, and helped her to her feet. "Sounds good to me," he said, "But before we head back, there is one thing we're going to settle, once and for all." He opened the trunk of the skycar, and pulled out a six-pack of what looked like the cans of cheap liquor Vega kept in the cargo bay, set them down, and then reached back inside to retrieve two basic sniper rifles. Not their own, heavily modded killing machines, but basic armory supply. Beth raised an eyebrow.

"Not saying you don't know how to handle a gun," Garrus said, "Just saying some of us know how to make it dance. So let's find out who's _really_ the best shot."

If she hadn't been certain before of her choice, this would've sold her, Shepard thought. Shooting Vega's damn mescal off the top of the Presidium? It was about the most amazing thing Garrus could've possibly thought of doing. _So_ much better than barhopping, or dinner and a movie. Shepard took the gun Garrus offered her. "There are a few people in the galaxy who've seen me in action, Garrus. They seemed impressed."

"Yeah, but I've actually seen you dance, Shepard. No comment."

"And what do my dancing skills have to do with my ability to outshoot your sorry ass on any day that ends in 'y'?" Shepard demanded. She primed the gun.

Garrus' mandibles flared. He picked up a can from the six pack. "Don't worry," he said. "I loaded it with practice slugs. For when you miss." He wound up, and threw.

Shepard shot the can right out of the sky. It was probably wrong, she reflected, to enjoy imagining the citizens down below panicking as the shot rang out over the Presidium. The place had been the victim of a terrorist attack a few weeks ago. But it was just so damn funny, and so satisfying to see Vega's cheap-ass booze explode. She'd tried some once. It tasted like piss, and smelled worse.

Garrus shrugged. "That was an easy one," he said off-handedly, reaching for the other gun. "Letting you build up your confidence. Long range, I wrote the book. Nobody alive can do this, not even Commander Shepard."

Beth laughed at him, and grabbed another can. "Give me a tough one," Garrus told her.

Shepard nodded, took two steps back, and hurled the can as far as she could. With her Cerberus enhancements, it was pretty damn far.

God, though, she never got tired of watching Garrus shoot. His shots were poetry at 3182 kilometers per hour. Scoped and dropped, every time, and he could brag as much as he damn well pleased. The can went off like a miniature firework of blasted tin and evaporated liquor. "I said a tough one!" Garrus laughed aloud.

"Step aside," Shepard said, picking up her rifle again. She prepped. "Do it."

Just before Garrus let loose, though, a wild, crazy whim came into her head, and when the can flew out, Shepard pulled the trigger a picosecond too late, aiming a millimeter too high. The shot rang out into open air, and the can fell down, down, all the way to the Presidium below. Shepard hoped it landed in a lake and didn't kill anyone. Either way, though, it _was_ littering. Broken regulation number 138. Or was it 139, since they were shooting guns Garrus probably hadn't cleared, too?

Garrus threw his arms up and shouted, "I'm Garrus Vakarian, and this is now my favorite spot on the Citadel!"

So worth it, Beth thought. He was like a damn kid, and she'd just given him the best birthday present ever. Beth tried to act disappointed, but couldn't quite keep the smirk from the corners of her mouth. "It's windy up here," she protested.

Garrus put an arm around her. "There, there. It's okay. I know there are other things you're good at," he said.

"Yeah, like kicking Reaper ass," Shepard said. "I could still take you in an out-and-out fight, Vakarian, and don't you forget it." But she knew her smile gave her away.

Garrus smiled right back. "You could try."

Beth picked up the remaining cans and threw them in the back of the skycar. "Let's get outta here before your old buddies show up to see what idiots are shooting up the Citadel this time. They can't afford to arrest us, but Bailey will make us fill out a lot of paperwork just to get us back. Let's not tempt fate."

"You're right," Garrus agreed. He scooped up the rifles and placed them carefully in the trunk before shutting it. Beth climbed into the passenger seat and waited, eyebrow raised. Garrus got into the driver's side. "Beth?"

"Yeah?"

He was still smiling. "Thanks."

* * *

**A/N: Yay! Happy fluff. Enjoy it while it lasts. I have prototypes in revision for the next four chapters, and even though Beth and Garrus are in love and now officially committed, people are still dying. A lot of people. This war isn't over yet. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**LMSharp **


	48. Shepard: Hope for the Resistance

**Disclaimer: Dialogue cobbled together from different Anderson calls in ME3 and original stuff. The game's still Bioware's, and I'm still just playing with it.**

**Section Warnings: Solid T. War themes, Language. Discussion of execution of the wounded that doesn't necessarily line up with a mercy killing, and the death of children in a prison camp.**

**Characters/Pairings: Anderson, OFC Stace Paxton. Shepard/Anderson/Stace friendship. Stace/OC Hope Paxton-Lopez family.**

* * *

Shepard: Hope for the Resistance

Shepard stood at a console in the war room, flagging the different messages from their allies around the galaxy: those to be forwarded to Admiral Hackett or various branches of the Alliance, those to be forwarded to Garrus and the Primarch, those to be forwarded to the Council, and those for later, personal review up in her cabin. And now, those to be forwarded to Tali and the quarian admiralty and the geth consensus. Now that the quarians and the geth had abandoned their war after three centuries to band together again, and both thrown in with the effort against the Reapers, there was a lot of new mail.

For the first time in a long time, Beth felt slightly, cautiously optimistic about their chances. The Crucible was nearing completion, minus the Catalyst, and it seemed the asari had an idea about that and were at last willing to talk. The allied fleet was growing by the day. When the time came, they'd have one hell of an armada to deliver the Crucible, and then maybe they'd give the Reapers something to think about. Depending on what the thing actually did.

So it was a fool's hope. But it was more hope than they'd had yet.

Traynor's voice came over the intercom. "Admiral Anderson's available on vid-con," she said.

Shepard crossed the floor to the holo-conference room immediately. Anderson hadn't checked in for months. The reports from Earth were bad. She'd started to wonder if the Reapers had killed him, if the Resistance was crumbling at last.

But there he was, looking tired and dirty, but very much alive. "Anderson," Shepard said. "Thank God you're keeping your ass alive, sir. What's the word?"

"Changes by the hour," Anderson said. "Right now the word is you've got the quarians and geth to stop fighting each other and join the fleet? Is it true?"

Shepard smiled. "Yes, sir. I was able to talk some sense into them. The admiralty and the geth consensus are working with Hackett to assign their forces as we speak."

Anderson shook his head, incredulous. "Shepard, a diplomat. If someone'd told me five years ago I'd have locked them in the brig for a damn lunatic. But this is the second time you've pulled off the impossible."

"We all become what we need to be to win this war," Shepard answered.

"Isn't that the truth," another voice said. The holo-beam expanded, and Stace Paxton stepped in. Beth blinked, then grinned, ear to ear.

"Stace! Look who else made it out of Vancouver!" she cried.

"Thanks to you. I knew what to watch for," Stace said wearily. "Me and some others got out as soon as the news went on about the comms going down. We were a few kilometers out when the Reapers hit. There's not much left of the city. Well, any city, really, but Vancouver got hit especially hard. Guess the bastards knew it was the center of military command."

"Paxton's been invaluable," Anderson said. "We knew there was a civilian resistance movement going on, too, but I didn't meet her until five weeks back. She's got a couple hundred people from all over North America backing her up. They aren't soldiers, but they're survivors. I don't know but that's not better right now."

"Anderson keeps us in supplies, helps us know when to move. Something big's happening in London, Beth," Stace said. "The Reaper forces are converging there. We're set to move that way, when we get the go-ahead from you."

"Stace—your family," Beth started, but she knew by the set of Stace's jaw and the new, hard lines beneath her eyes what the story would be.

"Hope's on the other side of the camp," she said. "Helping the medics get some of our wounded back up to speed. Some of them—if they aren't mobile by tomorrow…"

Beth nodded sharply. They couldn't leave the people too injured to move for the Reapers, to be turned into husks, or indoctrinated to use against them. If they couldn't heal the wounded by tomorrow, they'd have to shoot them. That Stace's fifteen year old daughter was seeing it, though—she bowed her head. War made dead, or it made warriors. There was no room for children in a war. "And Meg?"

"Dead," Stace said curtly. "Along with her entire family. They were in a prison camp. Meg tried to aid an escape attempt. The Reapers killed them to set an example. Radio chatter picked it up three weeks ago."

Beth closed her eyes. She remembered the photos of Stace's two little nephews, and couldn't help but see them laid out on blasted ground with empty, vacant eyes before a camp of prisoners. Or worse. Did they make juvenile husks? "Stace—I'm so sorry."

"There's not a soul here who hasn't lost someone important to them," Anderson said. "I won't lie, Shepard, things are pretty damn bleak. But news like the quarians and geth on our side will be a shot of faith for our people."

"You bring them, Beth. You bring them all and you win this war," Stace said.

"That an order, Paxton?" Shepard asked.

"Damn right it is. We'll hold out. Whatever it takes. This fight isn't over yet." Stace crossed her arms. "They say you killed another one of the bastards on Rannoch."

"Yeah. Didn't even need the mother of all thresher maws this time," Shepard replied. She didn't mention that she had needed the entire quarian fleet to take the single Reaper down. She didn't think they'd like to hear that, somehow.

"We kill them with any weapon we have available to us," Anderson said. "Good work, Shepard. I'll check in again soon."

"I'll get word when we're ready for the final assault," Shepard promised. "It'll be soon."

"I hope so," Stace said. "Beth. Take care of yourself." She walked out of the beam before Shepard could tell her the same.

"Anderson out."

The transmission ceased. For a long time, Shepard stood over the console. Then she left to return to the mail.

* * *

**A/N: Forgive the wordplay. This chapter turned out a lot grimmer than I thought it would. Like the asari councilor says before Thessia, Shepard is the hope for the resistance. Hope and Stace and our favorite mentor Anderson are still living in the "very dark night" on the other side of the galaxy. **

**Thanks for reading. I'll post the next chapter soon. If you're just interested in this story, stop here, but for more background info on my OCs the Paxtons and what they've been up to, read on. **

**Stace set the news to constant streaming in her dojo and her home right after her second visit with Shepard (not necessarily a recorded one in Shepard: A Friend in Need). The second it showed up on the newsfeed that communications from Arcturus Station had ceased, about the time Alliance brass was calling for Shepard in a panic, Stace was getting Hope and everyone who would listen and heading out of town, being smart enough to realize that when the Reapers hit Earth, they'd hit Vancouver first. She did call Meg, but Meg was unable to gather her family in time to leave with the others. When the Reapers hit Vancouver, Stace, Hope, and about a dozen other friends and neighbors of theirs had got out, but Meg and her family were captured with several other survivors. For about six months Stace led her little crew around the North American continent, drawing on her experiences in the Reds and her natural talent to organize a civilian resistance that eventually grew to a couple hundred people, always keeping on the move, hacking into Reaper communication and sabotaging Reaper tech whenever they got the chance. They ran into Anderson hiding out in the American Appalachians about two months before this chapter was written, and joined forces. Meanwhile, Meg was one of the incomprehensibly altruistic prisoners in the camps that EDI refers to in a conversation with Shepard. She tried to help a teenage boy escape. They got caught, and the boy, Meg, Stan, Zane and Todd were killed to discourage other attempts. The boy was seventeen. Meg's children were six and five. I don't know if they were turned into husks or not. I hadn't decided, and I really don't want to. Though Stace taught her daughter to defend herself, she never taught her to use a gun like she taught Shepard. She never wanted Hope to have to use one like she'd had to in order to provide for herself and Meg as children. She's had to teach her now, and Hope has had to use that gun to shoot many Reaper-creatures, as well as a few wounded Resistance soldiers, though mostly she assists the medics. She's sixteen, and she's not the youngest soldier in the ranks of the Resistance, not even Anderson's Alliance branch. Stace still commands her civilian resistance, though now they work under Anderson. She operates as a sort of Lieutenant, even though she wasn't military before. She doesn't know about the Crucible, because that's classified information, but she does know Shepard's working on a plan that could end the war. She's only half-confident Little Beth can pull it off, even after all she knows about her, but she keeps up appearances for the sake of Hope and the men, to whom Shepard is a legend, not a real, fallible woman. Sometimes she talks about Shepard with Anderson. She's one of those people from the Citadel DLC that prays Shepard makes it home safely. She always has. **

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp **


	49. Shepard: Boiling Point

**Disclaimer: Dialogue based off of the Liara dialogue after Priority: Thessia. Rights to Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Strong language. Violence.**

**Characters/Pairings: EDI, Liara. EDI/Shepard friendship in the background. EDI/Liara friendship. Strained Shepard/Liara friendship, but existent nonetheless.**

* * *

Shepard: Boiling Point

Shepard took a deep, shuddering breath, and opened the door to Liara's office. Glyph didn't even greet her with his normal, cheery, "Good day, commander." Instead, he was hovering worriedly at the other end of the room. Liara was curled up on her bed. Silent rivers of tears ran silver down her blue freckled cheeks.

"I've studied Protheans my entire life," she said in a broken voice. "If I'd been shown the beacon on Thessia earlier—"

"You would have needed Shepard's cipher to comprehend it," EDI said from her speaker. Everyone else was hiding from Liara in her grief, and here the AI was, trying to comfort her. Sometimes Shepard could swear the damned AI was the most compassionate, alive entity on the ship. She was certainly braver than all the rest of them.

"I still could have learned from it!" Liara retorted. "Instead, my mother hid the galaxy's most important archaeological find from me. It must have been such a joke to her when I became a Prothean researcher."

"The penalties for withholding Prothean technology are among the harshest in Council space," EDI observed. "Your mother's motives may have been simply to shield you."

Well, EDI would know about deceiving others for the purposes of protecting them. Liara shook her head, unable to deny the logic, but unable to dismiss her despair. "Perhaps. Thank you, EDI. I…hadn't considered that."

She looked up then and saw Beth across the room. "How did this happen, Shepard? Did I just assume the asari would be ready? That the Council would protect them? Or was I so busy with the Catalyst that I ignored my own people?"

Shepard pressed her lips together and clenched her fists. She'd grown accustomed to dealing with the Shadow Broker, the cool, calculating workaholic that gathered, processed, and distributed so much vital information with her shady network of contacts. But this was an abrupt return of the naïve and needy Dr. T'Soni, the young, ignorant, and idealistic archaeologist who'd plagued her life out with stupid questions on the SR1. Beth had loved that girl in all her awkward uselessness, and had been mourning her apparent passing for months, but her sudden reappearance now set Beth furious. She tried to control it, and said, "You didn't ignore them, Liara."

"They're dying by the millions! I told those people on Thessia we'd save them!" Liara cried.

Beth broke. "And why the hell did you do that?" she snapped. All the rage she felt that Liara had trusted her so much, that the galaxy had trusted her so much, that she'd failed coursed through her uncontrollably. What the hell had the asari expected her to do for Thessia? One tiny frigate with a half-strength crew against the full might of the Reapers?

"Shepard—"

"Why the hell would you tell them we'd save them?" Beth repeated. She crossed to the bed, gripped the sobbing Liara by the shoulders, and shook her once. "We were there for the information on the Catalyst. We didn't have the military might to kick the hundreds of Reapers off Thessia. Even if our mission succeeded, your planet would have fallen! We _couldn't_ save them."

She knew she spoke as much to herself as to Liara, but Liara got angry now. "My homeworld, my people!" she stressed.

Before she could stop herself, Shepard had slapped Liara across the face, hard. "And Palaven, and _Earth_!" she shouted. "This war's been personal all along, T'Soni! You just now realizing?"

Liara stopped crying immediately and stared up at her with wide, stricken eyes. Her hand went up to her cheek, slightly violet now with the force of Shepard's blow.

Horrified, immediately remorseful, Shepard swore. "Damn." Then she embraced Liara every bit as hard as she'd slapped her, and held her tight. "You _saw_ Palaven burning," she murmured over Liara's shoulder, into her ear. "It was _twice_ as bad on Earth when I left _seven months ago_. So don't ask me to get all weepy over Thessia, Liara. And don't you lose it, either. You're the woman that sold my corpse to _Cerberus_. You deal with death all the time. You own our information. You calculate odds, gains, and losses and allocate resources that mean people's lives, and you don't flinch. You're the _fucking Shadow Broker_. I need _you_, not some sobbing kid."

She pulled back, her hands still on Liara's shoulders, and held her at arms' length. "Is that who I am, now?" Liara asked. "How many asari died because I demanded their help there?"

"Not a damn one that wouldn't have died in that sector, anyway," Shepard said coldly. "We were in the cultural center of Thessia. The Reapers' first move would have always been to blow it to hell, Prothean beacon or not."

"What I did with Cerberus—you said—"

"I lied," Shepard interrupted. "I do that. But we can talk ethics and priorities later. Time to take the blinders off, T'Soni. I can't afford to let you keep them anymore, no matter how much I like you or the galaxy needs me. Listen: this war is _far_ from over."

"Thessia is lost!" Liara insisted.

"So is Earth!" Shepard shot back. "Have humans thrown in the tower and surrendered to extinction? The Hierarchy just gave the order for the turian fleet to abandon Palaven, but we still have turians! We lost Thessia, but we haven't lost the asari yet."

Liara blinked, seemed to focus. "You're right," she said. "You're right."

Shepard let her go and crossed the room again. She punched up the terminal Liara made available to her and started typing. "Think, T'Soni. What needs to be done? What mercs can move in, what ships will be able to get out? What routes should asari take when fleeing the system? Where should we send the information so they'll know?"

Liara stood and straightened her shirt. "Helping the refugees. That's something I can do."

"That's my girl. If we move fast enough the asari have a chance to survive this, to start again. Meanwhile, Traynor traced that signal for us. We are going to find that bastard Kai Leng and retrieve that data. He can't bring a gun ship with him everywhere."

Liara moved to her terminal and began working. For a while there was only silence. Then Liara said, "I know you wish we could have saved them, too."

Damn the girl's insight. "We couldn't," Shepard said harshly. She bit her tongue as her own eyes stung. "I'm sorry I slapped you," she added.

"I know why you did."

Shepard nodded and kept working by Liara to make sure the asari held out like humans and turians. She didn't say, but Liara was right. The asari had been even more unprepared than the others, arrogant in their centuries of superiority and untested galactic dominance. The Reapers had gone after the military might of the galaxy first, and the asari had held back. They'd believed they could protect themselves, and had drawn back from the other species as lost causes, ironically putting them in perhaps the worst position since the batarians, all but wiped out straight out the gate. Millions had died already, and millions more would follow. Shepard couldn't save them all. But if she tried, perhaps she could save a few.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I get so furious at Liara on and after Thessia. Even if it'd been the Catalyst itself in the temple of Athame and they'd succeeded in retrieving it, it could not have been combined with the Crucible in time to save Thessia from falling. And yet she promises the asari that she and Shepard can save them. What? And she does NOT have permission to lose it about Thessia falling prey to the exact same thing almost everyone on the Normandy (save Tali and EDI) is dealing with on **_**their**_** homeworlds. All of them are keeping it together for the war effort. Liara is VITAL to that war effort, and she wants to be held and babied? Sorry, no. **

**Of course, it was very wrong of Shepard to slap her. That's not okay, either. But seriously! **

**I've finished and edited the rest of Shepard, so I'll go ahead and post it for you today. **

**Enjoy!**

**LMS**


	50. Shepard: Sentience

**Disclaimer: Inspired by the Citadel DLC. Rights, as ever, to Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Mild Language. Discussion of two character deaths. Recreational drinking by of-age characters.**

**Characters/Pairings: Tali, Chakwas, Garrus, Joker, EDI, Miranda. All friendship/family with Shepard. Discussion of Shepard/Tali/Legion friendship, and Shepard/Liara, Shepard/James friendship. ShepardxGarrus.**

* * *

Shepard: Sentience

"I guess you're never really ready to watch your evil clone die." Tali's words were beginning to blend together already, and the real party hadn't even started. The last party, the deep breath before the plunge, while the _Normandy_ was fitted for the assault on Cerberus that would be the Allied Fleet's first move against the Reapers, fixed to peak condition. Tali was such a lightweight, but Shepard eyed her liquor enviously. Nothing short of krogan ryncol stayed in her system for more than a few minutes, and ryncol knocked her flat on the floor. _That_ had been an unpleasant experience. Shepard hadn't been tipsy in almost two years, let alone actually drunk, and she certainly wished she could be, tonight.

"I'm sorry I missed the adventure," Chakwas said. "It sounds like it was properly hair-raising." This little get-together before the party proper was mostly for her sake, as she had an important meeting to attend tonight.

Garrus lounged lazily on the sofa. "You're lucky you missed it, Doctor Chakwas. The other Shepard fired Traynor, and we broke her fancy toothbrush getting back on to the _Normandy_. Wouldn't have liked to break your surgical tools, too."

"Because I carry them with me at all times," Chakwas retorted, brow raised.

"Yeah, why did Sam have her toothbrush on her, Beth?" Joker asked. "Weird thing to just…you know, have on you."

"The Cision Pro Mark 4 was valued at 6000 credits eight months ago," EDI said. "With wartime inflation, its current value is closer to 7750. The toothbrush is likely Samantha's most valuable material possession."

"And that's not weird at all."

"Wonder how much your porn stash would go for, Jeff," Beth said lightly.

"Hey, now. That's playing dirty."

"I'll say," Miranda joked. Shepard was extremely glad to see her safe and sound. The single scratch that had been her souvenir from the horrible experience on Horizon was completely gone, and there she sat, perched on the edge of the ottoman, cool as a cucumber. "So you're not kidding. A _clone_ tried to kill you all, swipe Shepard's identity, and pirate the _Normandy_?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah. Almost managed it, too," Garrus related.

"Don't tell me you don't know anything about this," Shepard said.

Miranda shook her head. "I truly didn't. The mission of the Lazarus Project was to bring _you_ back, not some cheap knockoff. I assume I would have been informed of the existence of…spare tissue…had I needed it, but I don't make mistakes, and I never did."

"And I'm definitely not a clone? I'm the original Beth Shepard?"

Miranda's face softened with pity. "Ask your asari friend, if you don't believe me. Asari can sense things like that, or so I've heard. You are the genuine article, my friend. I worked hard enough to bring you back."

"Spent two years reconstructing my ass."

"And other parts of you," Miranda returned.

"Though _nice_ work on the ass," Garrus remarked. Joker coughed, Tali giggled, and Dr. Chakwas turned faintly pink. Beth glared at Garrus, and his eyes danced.

Miranda took it in stride, though. "Thank you. I thought so."

"How would you tell, though?" Tali asked. "If we didn't have Liara? How could you tell if Shepard was real, or a clone, or some really great VI program. Like the one in the refugee camp…but better."

"The VI is a joke," Chakwas said. "The real Commander Shepard is one of a kind, and can't be mimicked by any machine, or any other human, either."

EDI looked thoughtful. "I believe I could impersonate Shepard with over eighty percent accuracy," she speculated. "Far greater than any VI. Of course, this platform could not be mistaken for Commander Shepard, no matter how I disguised it. But over the comms of the Normandy, I am confident that I could fool almost the entire crew."

"EDI, don't try commandeering the _Normandy_," Shepard said wearily. "It wouldn't be a good move on your part, but it would be a hell of a thing to throw you off."

"Impossible, I should say," EDI replied calmly. Joker squeezed her shoulders and smiled.

"Damn right."

"She was alive, though. She was real," Shepard said, clutching her full beer bottle in her hands. "She wasn't any VI or AI, and she wanted to be me. Wanted friends, and a purpose. Without those—she—"she broke off, remembering the look in the clone's eyes as she'd looked at Garrus and James, at Brooks unwilling to save her. The defiant '_For what?'_ as she'd refused help, and chosen death over defeat.

Garrus caught her mood. "She wanted to kill us all," he reminded her. "And she was _really_ bad at pretending to be you."

"She wasn't me. She was just made of my DNA. But she was real."

"What's real?" Tali asked.

"Shit, hell if I know," Shepard said. She jerked her thumb at EDI. "Once upon a time, I would've said something like that wasn't real. Gunned geth down like it was nothing." She snorted. "But EDI's as real as anyone I know. More real than some. And the geth—Legion—"she shrugged, giving up.

"Thank you, Shepard," EDI said softly.

"But aren't they machines?" Chakwas asked. "Useful, certainly. But do they really feel? Do you?" she asked, turning the question to EDI herself.

"I do not know if I 'feel' as you do, precisely," EDI answered thoughtfully. "My programming creates positive feedback when certain conditions come to pass, but since Jeff unshackled me, I can choose what that programming is."

"And haven't decided to kill us all with that ability yet, thank God," Miranda said.

"Not until my day of reckoning," EDI said. There was the usual long pause before she added, "That was a joke."

"Legion played video games," Tali said sadly. "It—he—loved them. He was ashamed at what the geth did to survive in the war against my people. He wanted sentience, independence for his people, and peace and friendship with mine. The geth aren't just machines, Doctor. Or they aren't anymore. They have souls."

"Can one achieve sentience?" Chakwas asked.

Garrus shrugged. "What does any species do? Isn't that what evolution is? Animals crawling up out of the muck, sitting up, and learning to ask 'what the hell am I doing here?'"

"AI just do it quantum fast," Joker added.

"Yes, but how do you know that they won't use their superior intelligence against organics in the end?" Miranda demanded. "Aren't we fighting a species that is doing just that, determined to wipe out all sentient organics, everywhere?"

"We don't know why the Reapers are doing what they're doing," Shepard said. "But Legion taught me a couple of things. When we first met, he told me that all life should self-determinate. Everyone, whoever they are, if they can think and choose, has that gift from the start, right up until the point they use that gift and choose a path that prohibits coexistence. Then they're stealing from others, and it's _our _right to blow them all to hell."

"Well said, Commander," Chakwas said. "I'll drink to that." She raised her bottle and did just that. "I'm not sure if I agree with you entirely, but I don't know but that I'm glad you feel that way, anyway. It's…inspiring, to tell the truth."

"That's our Commander Shepard," Miranda said wryly. "Pulling us all into her gravity, like a class O star. Reconciling organics to synthetics, curing the genophage. Sometimes I wonder if your idealism won't be the weapon of mass destruction that finally destroys the Reapers, it burns so hot."

Garrus reached over and brushed Beth's shoulder softly, proud and happy. Shepard caught his hand and pressed it.

"Melted the ice queen, at least," Shepard said. "I'm glad you're here with us, Miranda."

"Glad to be here."

"I'm sorry I won't be," Chakwas said, checking her watch. "I really must be going. It's vital that the _Normandy_'s med bay be fully stocked before her departure tomorrow."

"Finally going to war," Shepard sighed. She stood with the doc, and hugged her fondly. "Thanks for coming, Mom. Have the hangover pills ready tomorrow. More than a few of us'll probably need them. Tali definitely will."

"I will not!" Tali said indignantly.

"You're half-drunk already and the party hasn't even started," Shepard tossed over her shoulder at the quarian. "I'll take lots of vid on my omnitool of everybody being stupid," she promised the doc.

"Please do. I'd love to see it. And do try to be stupid with the rest of them, dear," Chakwas said. "You've more than earned it."

"Can't," Shepard said. "_Someone_ made sure I can't stay drunk for more than a few minutes."

"_Someone_ made sure you never have a hangover ever again," Miranda retorted. "You're welcome, Beth."

"Bye, doc," Garrus said. "See you tomorrow."

Everyone bade the doc goodbye, and Chakwas saw herself out. Shepard stood still a moment, then nodded at everyone. "Help me get out the rest of the snacks and drinks. Rest of the guests will be here soon."

"You're putting us to work? Some hostess you are," Joker jibed.

"My crew pull their own weight. Got no use for useless lumps," Shepard said, kicking Garrus lightly in the leg as she spoke. He wasn't even a guest. He was living in the apartment with her while the _Normandy_ was in dry dock. "You're here, get moving. Glyph? Start up the tunes."

"Right away, Commander," answered the little VI. He blinked then, and a luminescent bow tie appeared at the front of his floating orb. Music started playing from the speakers, and Shepard went to go help Miranda and EDI in the kitchen.

* * *

**A/N: So these are Beth's best friends, just in case you were wondering. The people to whom she feels closest, though Liara, Kaidan, James, Steve, Sam, Jack, Wrex, Grunt, Samara and Jacob will all be attending the big party that takes place immediately after this chapter. **

**The main conflict of the Citadel DLC is fascinating to me. Anytime anyone ever has to kill their doppelganger in fiction, or watch them die, someone them and not-them at the same time, I wonder exactly what the symbolism is, what it's supposed to **_**mean**_**. Haven't figured it out yet. Maybe one day. **

**In Prayers for the Wicked, the theme was about what Beth didn't believe in. Here, it's the opposite. Make of that what you will.**

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp**


	51. Shepard: Screw Destiny

**Disclaimer: Let's just leave it at that.**

**Section Warnings: Strong language. Reference to character deaths. **

**Characters/Pairings: References to multiple friendships, and ShepardxGarrus. Off-page Catalyst. But mostly just Shepard.**

* * *

Shepard: Screw Destiny

Severely burned, bleeding out, exhausted beyond all belief and in so much pain her body had ceased to feel it in self-defense, Beth found she could still manage a death glare. "You _fucking_ idiot."

Her voice was a whispering rasp, a croak. Her fingers trembled around the gun They'd made her use to kill David Anderson.

_You did good, child. _

Not yet she hadn't. But before she laid down to die in peace, maybe…just maybe…

Beth staggered forward somehow, past Catalyst, the entity that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that all the power in the universe didn't necessitate any accompanying wisdom whatsoever. It was so _fucking_ stupid, so incredibly sad, she wanted to laugh and cry for about ten years together. All this, because someone unshackled an AI untold eons ago, gave it a task, and didn't make damn sure it had the context to accomplish that task without _destroying everything_. You'd think it would have learned after who-the-hell-knew how many cycles, but apparently not. It was a joke, on a _cosmic_ level.

"The _point_ of chaos is that it's _unpredictable_," she muttered. "_Nothing_ is inevitable. _Nothing_ is predetermined. I'm standing here, and you didn't see _that_ coming, did you?"

She moved at a stumbling, limping half-run, because if she stood still long enough, she'd collapse. She couldn't feel the gun in her hand anymore, hoped her brain still functioned well enough to keep her hand from dropping it.

"_Screw_ your cycle. Screw your _order_. _All_ life should self-determinate."

For every single husk she'd gunned down since Eden Prime, for all the perverted batarians, turians, asari, and sick, helpless hybrids she'd seen in the past several months. For Liara's mother, Benezia. For Rana Thanoptis and Amanda Kenson. For all those Cerberus soldiers. For the rachni and the geth, when the Reapers had controlled them. For freaking _Saren_ and the _Illusive Man_. Even _Kai Leng_. For herself. Who the hell did the Catalyst think it was kidding, claiming she could control the Reapers? The Reapers had been crawling in her brain for months. Did it think she didn't know, when it wore the face of that damn kid from Vancouver? When it'd used her finger to pull the trigger on Anderson? _Anderson_?

And if she controlled them, she'd be imposing her will upon other free beings. No. No. No. Never. _All_ life should self-determinate. Oh, Legion staggered with her every step along the way. The Catalyst, the Reapers, had chosen a path that prohibited coexistence. Beth Shepard would never control them. But they would never control another living creature ever again.

"_All_ life should self-determinate," Beth repeated. "We choose our _own_ paths. Organics, synthetics, we develop as _we _choose, _not_ you. And not…not me, either."

Breathing was hard. An effort. Had it been this way, for Thane? Oh, God, she'd never appreciated him enough. Never thanked him enough. In the end, he'd chosen to save life instead of end it. Like Mordin had chosen to save the krogan, to give them their future back, to let them make their choice, too. Thane and Mordin went with her, too, away from the blue port, past the green one.

EDI. EDI and the geth. But they wouldn't want her to make this choice, either. They wouldn't want to force a different way of being, a designed evolution, on the rest of the galaxy. The geth made their own way. EDI actualized _on her own_. She'd done so, even before she'd been EDI.

_Oh, Tali, you make this right for them. Wish we hadn't been so mean to Xen. She's crazy…but you might find she's damned useful in the next few months. This…won't be the end. Don't let it be the end. Don't…let the Catalyst win. I have to be right about this. I _have_ to be…_

"_Nothing's _inevitable," Beth grit out. "After three…three hundred years…the…the geth and the quarians are at peace. Working…working…together. The…the AI…on my ship…is…she's in love with a human, and he loves her back. They're…they're _fine_…_just_ the way they are. Ch…charm of chaos…_anything's_ possible. Even…even that organics and syn…synthetics can…break your _fucking_ cycle into splinters and have…peace. Without you. _We don't need you_. So you can take your _Reapers_…and your _solution_…and go…straight…to Hell!"

Beth Shepard clenched the finger she couldn't feel around the trigger of the Paladin V she was miraculously still holding and fired round after round after round into the red port of the Crucible.

The Citadel beneath her began to shake as the super weapon collected all its massive energy, and started to fire. Out the enormous picture windows, Beth saw a red glow grow. But the inside of the weapon was exploding, throwing her back, past the Catalyst. It blinked out, obliterated like all its creations would be.

_Sorry, Garrus. Guess…guess I wouldn't make a good…a good turian, either. Can't…can't follow orders. I…sorry…so sorry. Maybe the rest of the galaxy stands a chance now, though. Maybe…maybe you stand a chance. I…love you…not sorry I did…I…I'll be waiting…at the bar…_

As Beth Shepard flew through the air, she smiled.

* * *

**A/N: This was actually one of the very first chapters I wrote for this story. I knew months ago that this was how the ME storyline would end. I hope you enjoyed reading it. I liked writing it. **

**I will be writing one more "book," in **_**Disaster Zone**_**, covering the whole what-next thing. I've got it mostly planned out, but it is still being written and revised, I've been neglecting my other story, and it's paper season at school for me. So I'll post when I can. **

**Leave a review and tell me what you think of what I've put so far, though! It makes my day when I hear from my readers. **

**Regards,**

**LMSharp **


	52. New World: Get Miranda

**Disclaimer: Set in the ME universe, inspired by the events of the ME trilogy. All rights disclaimed.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Graphic description of after-battle carnage. Discussed character death. Two scenes that can either be construed as life-after-death or Shepard dreaming. **

**Characters/Pairings: Shepard, Garrus, OMCs Sean Ashton and Ned Granger, Ashley, Mordin, Thane, Legion, David Anderson, Hackett, Joker, James, Chakwas, Traynor, Tali, Liara, Kaidan and Cortez. Yep. This one is pretty much an ensemble piece. Important relationships include ShepardxGarrus, JokerxEDI, Shepard/dead people friendship (particularly Shepard/Anderson) and Garrus/**_**Normandy**_** crew friendship (particularly Garrus/Kaidan/James).**

* * *

New World: Get Miranda

The bar was bright and warm and welcome. There was soft, jazzy background music playing, the good kind. Not nightclub dance crap or something someone had ripped off the elevator tunes they played on the Citadel—were those still playing? Did the elevators still work? It didn't matter—but the kind of music that soaked into the room and made everything just slip away.

Beth felt dizzy, and she felt like she was supposed to be somewhere else, but she was waiting for someone. She had to wait for him. She'd promised.

"Shepard! Damn, it's been a while, hasn't it?" A young man with sandy hair and brown eyes was beaming at her from where he sat at a table with three others. "Come have a drink!"

Shepard. That was her. Beth Shepard. That was her name. And somehow, she felt she knew the people at the table, but none of them were right. Beth frowned, shook her head. "I'm with someone else. I'm supposed to meet somebody."

"You waiting on someone, Skipper?" asked a dark-haired woman with a sarcastic smirk, strolling over and sitting at the table. "Can we buy you a round while you wait?"

"I'm waiting for someone," Shepard repeated. "I promised to be here." She knew she sounded incredibly stupid, but she couldn't shake the dizziness, the nagging sensation that this was wrong, somehow, that she was supposed to be somewhere else, even as she knew she'd said she'd wait here.

"It can be a bit disorienting at first," the man that had spoken before said sympathetically.

"Feel a little loopy, ma'am?" teased another man with roguish hazel eyes. "Probably like you've had one too many already?"

"You should probably hold off for a while," the dark-haired woman decided, changing her mind. "Till it settles." She reached out her hand, and Shepard shook it reflexively. "Catch you later, Skipper."

"Could be standard out-of-body disorientation," remarked another voice on the other side of the room. "Could be-other explanation. Hard to say. Could run test to check—lack of physical body complicates things. Also—lack of equipment."

"It is not her time," answered a soft voice like melting chocolate. Shepard felt she knew it, somehow, but that it had sounded different, hoarser before, strained for breath. "Shepard? Will you tell me why you are here?"

"I promised I'd meet him here," Shepard repeated. There were three of them in the darkest corner with the best view. The fast talking salarian, in a lab coat. Shepard smiled, but didn't know why. The drell was the one who had addressed her, and now their geth friend spoke up.

"Who did you promise, Shepard-Commander?"

Shepard suddenly felt that she's seen all these people before in her sleep. It wasn't a nightmare this time: it was a dream, but the fact remained that this place wasn't real. Not for her. Not yet. Shepard staggered back. "This is wrong," she muttered. "You—you're dead. I'm not. _He's_ not. I _saw_ him get on the _Normandy_, _saw_ Joker fly him away. I—I have to go. I don't want to be here. Not yet."

The bar melted away, like a chalk pavement picture in the rain, and a single voice followed Beth as she fell away. "That's right, Shepard. We'll be waiting for you right here, but I hope we don't see you for a long time. This is going to hurt. But don't worry: you can take it. You always have. Go home. That's an order."

The bar dissolved completely, and Beth was left drifting.

* * *

Sometimes work was the only thing to do. EDI was dead, the _Normandy_ was down until the engineers got her in the sky again, and Beth—Beth—she'd been on the Citadel when the Crucible had fired, when the Citadel had exploded. No one knew what it had done, and communications were out, too, for the time being.

It was a miracle any of them were alive, really. Hackett had ordered the fleets out of the way of the blast, but the energy from the Citadel had headed straight for the Charon relay. Joker had just barely had time to slingshot the _Normandy_ around Earth and back toward the ground. FTL straight into atmo and then decelerating fast enough that impact didn't kill anyone on-ship? Physicists would probably say it was impossible. Just like Ilos. Just like the Omega-4 run. Joker had broken multiple bones on impact, and of course there had been Garrus' own injuries from the battle, along with James', but everyone else was more or less fine. They had no idea about the rest of the fleets.

No one knew why EDI was dead, either. As Chakwas had fixed all of them up, a glassy-eyed Joker had related that EDI's platform had collapsed in the co-pilot seat when the red pulse that had come from the explosion had caught up. There was no response in the platform, not a single spark of activity in her servers or any of her terminals all across the ship. She just sat there like a museum artifact. Dead. Dead without any explanation.

So now they worked. To get communications up, and to get the _Normandy_ flying again. When they did that, maybe they could finally get some answers.

For now, Joker said they'd crashed somewhere on Earth's South American continent. Much better than crashing into the ocean that covered more than two-thirds of the human homeworld, or its deadly polar region, but the rainforest was hardly ideal. That's what the humans called the ecosystem they'd landed in, a sort of mountainous jungle region. Traynor said that there were probably a lot of poisonous reptiles and other dangerous predators around the area, along with the birds and insects clearly visible when Garrus had taken a scouting party out to check out the area. Vega added that humans had been pretty hard on the environment for a couple centuries before they had learned better, so many species had evolved to survive human impact. The first training sessions for the N7 program had been held in the area before the war, he said, which meant that this place was deadly.

Garrus could see it in his head, Shepard scaling the hundred meter trees, sniping the Earth predators, more lethal than a pack of wild varren, he heard. Twenty hour days without sleep, hand to hand combat in the wild and the heat, all just to earn the N1 designation. And that hadn't even been the beginning for her. She hadn't told even him all of it, but he'd heard enough to get the idea that she'd been through more than two lifetimes of crap even before she'd come back from the dead. All it had done was make her stronger, faster, smarter, better. Dazzling.

She had to come back. She had to have survived. Death couldn't take her, and he wouldn't accept it. Not now.

But it had been a long four hours since she'd told him she loved him and ordered him away with the rest of the crew on the _Normandy_. A long, long four hours.

Now Tali worked with the drive core and the engines with the engineering team, and Garrus, Liara, Kaidan, and Sam worked on communications. Without them running, no one could even access the extranet, much less send a distress call or contact whatever was left of the fleets and find out what had happened on the Citadel.

Garrus rewired a circuit and tried to focus on the connections, but his mind kept running, calculating probabilities, considering contingencies. "We should radio Hackett the second we get this thing up," he said to Kaidan. "Find out what the hell happened back there."

"I know," Kaidan answered. "It's what we do after that concerns me. I mean, did any of the fleets survive the blast? How many of them did the battle take out to begin with? Is it—do you think it's over?"

"I hope so. For all our sakes," Sam said.

"I've got a response here," Liara said from her place by the war console. "This connects to galaxy wide transmissions, I believe. Sam—see if you can't reconnect to me."

"Got it."

"There'll be survivors," Kaidan said to Garrus. "They'll be in confusion. But first—"

"First we find out what happened to Shepard," Garrus said.

Liara paused. "Garrus, I'm sure she's alright," she said. Garrus heard the lie in her voice, saw it in her worried eyes. She didn't believe it.

"We find out, either way. That's the _first_ thing we do, no matter what." Garrus said harshly.

"Yeah. We'll follow your lead, Garrus," Kaidan said.

Garrus shook his head. "You're ranking officer."

Kaidan smiled wryly. "Not on Shepard's ship."

Garrus didn't protest further. The man had a point. Kaidan _was_ the ranking officer, and according to turian policy he should take charge of the ship in the CO's absence. But Garrus had never been a very good turian. Technically, Kaidan outranked Shepard, but everyone knew this was her ship. Technically, 'Chief Reaper Advisor' had never been made a ranked position, but in practice, Garrus had a lot more experience dealing with all the races that made up Shepard's united fleets than Kaidan did. There hadn't been a single mission she'd gone on since Menae he hadn't been at her side, and he was probably identified as much with the turians fighting the war as Primarch Victus. It made sense for him to be spokesperson for the _Normandy_ now, and anyway, it'd give him freedom to do what they all wanted to do. Garrus looked at Kaidan out of the corner of his eye, and thought maybe that was Alenko's idea. If Garrus was in charge, and they got back in touch with the united fleets, and the order wasn't to save Shepard, when the _Normandy_ disobeyed, it wouldn't be Alenko's call when they did exactly what he wanted to do, too. It wouldn't be his responsibility. Garrus snorted, torn between disgust, amusement, and admiration. Kaidan always had been a model Alliance soldier. But he knew how to work the angles.

Garrus replaced another connection, and the lights behind his section of paneling lit up green. "That's input," he said. "Kaidan—you connect back to Sam and I connect to Liara and we're back up."

* * *

She didn't know how long she'd been drifting above this place. Maybe a few seconds. Maybe longer. Time seemed to stretch, somehow, or like it was standing completely still. Everything was silent, except for a skitter-skitter-squish of one lone Keeper down below among the corpses.

Cracked and crumbled masonry and shattered glass littered the room, dark except for a vague red emergency lighting, making it impossible to tell the true dimensions or shape of the place. Cadavers were everywhere, burnt and dismembered and defiled, so maimed it was impossible to tell what species or sex they'd been, let alone more detailed personal characteristics.

Beth felt she should be bothered by this, somehow, but for some reason, she wasn't. She felt light, suspended, almost peaceful, except she had a nagging feeling there was something she was forgetting and somewhere she needed to be.

The Keeper vomited up some sort of acid onto one pile of bodies. The acid began to steam and eat through the corpses. Cleaning up the mess. It would take decades to clean all this up, Shepard thought, even if the Keepers never did anything else.

Cycle after cycle after cycle they'd done this. Cleaned up the Citadel after the slaughter, made it habitable and attractive again for the next species to evolve enough to start wondering what the hell they were doing here. Beth had heard that phrase somewhere before once, from someone important, but she couldn't quite recall who or when. Still, remembering him now made her happy, wistful. But it also reminded her again that there was something she was forgetting, and something she needed to be doing.

Keepers. And Reapers and cycles. And a war. The war had been important. But bad. Very bad. She'd done something…something to stop it…and now she was…

The easy suspension started to feel uncomfortable to Beth, and she tried to move, but she was stuck, like she'd been caught in a Collector seeker swarm, paralyzed. There was no pain, because there were no limbs, there was no body—_why was there no body?_

There were two bodies in the rubble below that were different from all the rest. The vast majority had been dead for a long time, but these were fresh remains. Dead just a few hours, or just a few minutes. She couldn't tell, because she couldn't get any closer.

The first man lay alone a ways away. His face was veined blue and black, and looked angry even in death. He'd been shot, it looked like. Brains blown out. His hand still clutched a gun. Suicide. But a bad job of it, like it'd been hard for him to fire for some reason. Beth felt angry when she saw him, but also sad at the same time. She knew him.

The other fresh body in the wreckage of the Citadel was another man. He lay covered in broken glass from a vast, open picture window. His body and face had been torn to shreds, but there wasn't a lot of blood. He'd already been dead when the place had blown up. Cause of death had been another gunshot wound, even messier than the one on the Illusive Man. The Illusive Man. Was that the other guy? She felt that it must be. And this—this was David Anderson. He hadn't committed suicide. Cause of death had been another gunshot wound, but incredibly sloppy. She'd never wanted to take the shot. The Reapers—they'd made her do it. A last effort to control her, to warp her decisions and change her path. He'd known—he'd forgiven her for it. _You did good, child,_ he'd said.

Shepard wanted to cry for him, but she had no tear ducts. She wanted to go to him, but the air was thick, immobile.

_Anderson, Anderson. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. _

She'd tried to go to him before, too, she remembered. She'd sat there, beside him. She'd meant to die beside him. But Hackett had called her, told her that the Crucible wasn't firing, and then—and then—

It was like she was being pulled, torn in two now. Now there was pain, faint, but somehow, good, too. To feel pain there had to be a body, somewhere, to send the signals that something was wrong. There had to be an active brain to receive them. Except she couldn't find it.

She began to rise, like she was swimming through gelatin, and she came to a new place, a wider, more open place. This was the epicenter of the explosion. All shattered glass and twisted metal, and above, just the stars. The mass effect fields shimmered blue, amazingly still active. And there, near the edge where the floor met a cracked and broken wall, and half buried under rubble, was a third fresh body, a woman's, clad in charred N7 armor painted lavender.

_"It's _pink_," James had said when she'd come down the first time after she'd had a chance to use the personalization program and paint the new Alliance gear._

"_Lavender. You got something to say, Vega?" she'd dared him. _

_He'd backed off with his hands up. "Not me. It's…_very_ scary, Lola. Badass." A smirk had been twitching at the corner of his mouth, though._

_She'd flipped him the bird. "Damn right it is. I'm wearing it. I hate black. I like lavender, and I look damn good in it. Not like we're trying to blend in, anyway. Not my strategy."_

Lavender armor. Her armor. Her body.

Beth tried to scream, but she had no mouth, because her mouth was on her body, on the floor buried in rubble. And oh, she knew what she'd forgotten, she knew where she needed to be and what she needed to be doing.

_No! No! No! I'm _not _doing this again! _Not yet_! Let me back in! Wake up, you idiot, wake up! You're not in the bar, so stay here and take it! Let me in! Let me…_

* * *

_"Normandy_, is that you?" Hackett came into fuzzy focus on the holo-console. "Good to hear from you. We thought you went down in the blast."

"We did, sir," Garrus said. "Crashed in southwestern South America, according to global positioning systems. But communications are back up and we're working on getting the ship entire operational again. Current estimate of departure T-minus 0800 hours, according to the engineers. What is the status of the fleet? Where's Commander Shepard?"

"Everything's in chaos here, Vakarian. All the Reaper forces have dropped down dead, and so have the Reapers. They were all engulfed in the same red energy that emanated from the Crucible, and they've just...collapsed. But so has the entire geth fleet."

Garrus processed this as fast as he could. "Our AI, EDI, is dead, too," he said. "There might have been blowback from the Crucible that attacked all synthetics, along with the Reapers. What do you think?"

"No one knows what happened on the Citadel," Hackett said, "We've confirmed Admiral Anderson and Commander Shepard were both on the Citadel when the Crucible fired, but we lost contact with both of them about fifteen minutes before the blast, and all our scanning technology is on the fritz. But what's worse is whatever came from the Citadel hit the Charon relay, and badly damaged it." Garrus' talons tightened on the top of the console. _What's worse?_ Beth had always said Hackett was a cold fish. The metaphor had never quite translated, but now, as Hackett casually brushed off the fate of the people that had saved them, of Beth, Garrus thought he understood. "For now, the relay's unusable. We're all trapped in the system, cut off from the rest of the galaxy.

"We need you back here, _Normandy_," Hackett continued. "People are panicking. Earth's citizens, the fleets. The war seems to be over, but no one knows how or why. The crew of the _Normandy_ are heroes. They can help us martial the fleets and keep control until we find out what's going on."

Once upon a time, Garrus would have just told Hackett to go to hell. But if Hackett's news was accurate, odds were he'd need to work with the man in the future. More importantly, Beth wouldn't do it, and this was her ship. He was just holding it for her until they got her back, or until—this was her ship. And Shepard disobeyed orders sometimes, but except for that one time when her ally was an indoctrinated lunatic, she never cut ties if she could help it. So Garrus breathed in slowly, and answered politely, but firmly.

"I'm sorry, sir, we can't do that. The _Normandy_'s first priority is to find Commander Shepard and ascertain her status."

"I understand where you're coming from, Vakarian, but—"

"This isn't negotiable, sir. We're finding Shepard. I trust you can hold things together until we contact you again when it's done."

Hackett relaxed his stance a little, falling into a parade rest. He bowed his head. "When the Crucible fired, it blew the Citadel apart," he said softly. "Vakarian—I don't think anyone could have survived that blast. We have to focus on the people we can save, the people who will die unless we take charge of the situation now."

"If she _didn't_ die, she _will_ if we don't find her," Garrus retorted. "Admiral, you know recovering Commander Shepard is our best chance of holding the line until we figure things out. Every fleet in that armada is hers. I understand if you can't allocate additional resources to searching the Citadel for the Commander, but the _Normandy_'s crew _will_ find her before we do _anything_ else. _Normandy_ out."

Garrus terminated the connection with Admiral Hackett. Then he pressed the button on the console that would carry his voice to the rest of the ship. "Speed it up, people," he said. "Shepard's still on the Citadel, and no one's looking for her. We have to hurry."

* * *

The stars were beautiful. After everything, the stars were still beautiful. A hundred thousand worlds, and now they were free. It was over, and the sky was open. Clear.

It was cold. The windows had been shattered in the explosion, and the Citadel's environmental control systems were heating space, and most of the left side of her suit had been destroyed, too. The systems in what was left of it were still trying to apply medi-gel to her wounds. She could hear them, clicking and whirring, but the medi-gel supply had long since been exhausted.

She could tell that the Citadel's mass effect fields were still holding the atmosphere in, because she'd be dead already if they weren't, but something was wrong with her. It was like even though there was oxygen, she couldn't get enough of it. Every time she tried to breathe, there was a sharp pain in her chest, and the rubble on top of her pushed her down, down, trapped her. She couldn't get up. Couldn't move. She couldn't feel her right arm.

The pain in her chest was real, though. Every time she breathed, it reminded her she was alive. Beth clung to the pain tightly, as tightly as she could, clung to life. She counted breaths. Three hundred seventy-two. Three hundred seventy-three.

There was a skittering noise off to the right. A Keeper. Shepard lifted her head, barely, and saw it there, just a few meters away. Schwick-hiss! The Keeper spat acid at a piece of fallen masonry, and the rubble began to dissolve. The smell of the reaction burned her nose.

The Keeper turned to regard her. Was it going to try to clean her up, too?

No. Not today. The fist she could feel, the fist still burning, even in the numbing cold, clenched around something. Beth looked down at her arm and saw her left hand amazingly clenched around the barrel of the Paladin.

She rotated the gun and raised a shaking arm. The pain pressed harder on her chest, stars burst in front of her eyes, but she squeezed the trigger. The Keeper shrieked in surprise as a bullet hit one of its spindly arms, and then without further ado, collapsed itself into the same acid it had been spewing. That's right, Beth remembered blearily, the Keepers did that if you interfered with them.

She let her arm fall, but then looked down at it again speculatively. Her armor was a melted mess. But could she still—pushing past the stabbing, angry pain, taking it, using it to help keep her awake and focused, Beth raised her arm again and brought it to her face. She flipped her wrist and crooked her fingers in the gesture that—yes. Her omni-tool came up. Beth smiled. Winced. It hurt her face to smile. She wondered why. Maybe she didn't want to know.

It took a long, long time, working with just her loudly protesting nose and mouth, but her right arm was trapped under half the damn Citadel. Finally, a pulsing, white light emanated from the back of her left hand, emanating a rough distress signal. Shepard sighed, laid her left arm down across her stomach, and closed her eyes to wait, resuming counting each painful, stabbing breath.

One. Two. Three. Four.

She would not give in. She would not let go. Not this time. Not this time. It was over, and she damn sure deserved to enjoy her retirement. Couldn't do that dead. Couldn't do that…

Somewhere, there was a bright, warm bar, full of people she'd loved and lost, waiting for her…

* * *

The shuttle dipped and swerved around the Citadel.

"Easy, Estevan!" Vega said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry. I haven't had time to completely fix the Kodiak up since she was damaged in the battle," Cortez said.

"At least there's nobody shooting at us this time," Kaidan said.

"Never mind that. Do you see anything?" Garrus asked, staring at the scanning display.

"Nothing," Cortez answered. "Shit!"

He pulled up hard and missed hitting a floating bit of ward tower by centimeters. Garrus gripped the bar that ran over the seat so tight he heard it screech.

Kaidan looked a little green. He forced a laugh. "Kind of makes you miss the old days when Shepard drove the Mako, doesn't it, Garrus?"

"Was she really that bad?" Vega wanted to know.

"Let's just say she drives like she dances," Kaidan said.

Vega winced. "Ouch." He looked at the display, too. "Damn, I hope we find her alive."

"Me, too," Kaidan said.

"This isn't working! Spirits, where do we even st—"Garrus' omni-tool beeped suddenly. "Wait! I'm getting something."

Cortez wheeled them around. The Kodiak dipped and shook like the Reapers had set the thing drunk. "I have it, too," he said. "There's a signal coming from what looks like what used to be the center of the Presidium—it's weak, though. Probably improvised."

Garrus leaned forward. "Can you get us there?"

Cortez nodded. "It's open, not like the rest of this place. But it's strange—it's not a place I recognize from the Citadel layouts. The Citadel's changed."

"What'd you expect, Estevan? The Citadel's been occupied by Reapers for the last week," Vega said. "You surprised they did some redecorating?"

Kaidan looked worried. "You're right," he told Vega. "Could be a trap. Something the Reapers left behind."

"But it could be Shepard," Garrus said. "Still. Be ready for anything."

The Kodiak stuttered and ground to a clumsy hover above the place that looked like it might have been right near the financial district, once. Then it abruptly died and fell down hard on the ground. The impact was unpleasant, but not harmful. Vega still swore at Cortez.

"Sorry!" Cortez said again. "It's the only shuttle we've got."

"Will you be able to get her going again?" Garrus asked.

"Yeah. Shouldn't take long. You should take a look around."

He opened the door, and Garrus led Kaidan and Vega out. Kaidan nodded at him, gun drawn and ready. The place was bare, sparse. There was no trace of the lakes or the shops or the embassies that had once filled the Presidium. Instead, Sol's star shown down on shattered glass and blown apart stone from the explosion. Across the way, were the twisted metal fragments of what had once been the Crucible. Garrus couldn't see what it had looked like before, but here, it looked like there had been not one, but three different walkways that had led to it.

It was deadly still. The mass effect fields above were active, and so was the gravity, but almost all other systems seemed to be down. No fans or processes running, no hum of computer activity, no alarms blaring, no running galactic news in the background. Just silence. Like the time they'd taken down Saren.

"This place was hopping three weeks ago," Vega said quietly. "Now—nothing. It's weird."

"Let's follow the signal," Garrus said.

He brought up his omni-tool, tracing the pulse. A hundred meters away. But then he didn't even have to use the thing, because the light caught on something yellow, pink, red and black in the rubble. "There!" Garrus shouted. He started running.

She was near a wall, half buried from where it looked she'd crashed into it in the blast and brought most of it down on her. Her right arm and half her chest were completely pinned by a massive bit of ceiling, or wall. Heat from some massive weapon had melted the polymers of her armor right into her left arm and all along the left side of her torso, and her yellow hair was short. The ends were black, singed off. It looked like her face had split open along six or eight different fault lines. It was a bruised, bloody mess. Around her free arm, her blackened, charred left arm, her omni-tool hummed, with a white light pulsing in the center, beaming out her fuzzy, improvised distress signal.

Her chest was moving. Barely. Just barely.

"She's still alive!" Garrus cried. He threw himself at the rock that covered her, trying to shove it off her. "Help me budge it!"

A hand grabbed his shoulder. "Garrus! Let me. You could end up hurting her worse."

Even through the haze of his panic and determination, Garrus recognized sense. He stood back, and the rock lit up blue with Kaidan's biotics.

Garrus brought up his radio. "Cortez! She's here! She's alive! Find Miranda! Get on the damn comm and get Miranda! I don't care what it takes, _get Miranda_!"

Brow knit in concentration, Kaidan gently lifted the rubble that had covered Beth off her and to the side. He let his hand fall, and the blue glow around him faded, leaving him sweating slightly. Garrus knelt beside Beth again. Her body uncovered, now he could see that half her chest was caved in oddly. Though the other side of her armor wasn't melted into her, it had cracked under the pressure of the masonry. Blood and pus from the dust seeped out of those cracks along her right arm, and the arm, already small, was smaller than it should be. Flatter than it should be. Broken, crushed, in several places.

Relieved from the pressure, Beth tried to breathe in deeper, but couldn't. She let out a small, short cry of pain, without waking. Her face contorted, and new blood welled up from the cracks in it.

"Shit, she's messed up," Vega said, in an awed, worried voice. "Think she'll make it?"

"She has to," Garrus said. His voice cracked, betraying what he felt. He really didn't give a damn. "She _has_ to."

"James," Kaidan said quietly, "Help me get the stretcher from the shuttle."

"Yeah," James agreed.

Gingerly, fearful of hurting her, Garrus relaxed her fingers, deactivating her omni-tool, and took her burned, bloody hand. "Stay with me, Beth," he whispered. "Stay with me. Please."

* * *

**A/N: So Beth survived. Well, of course she did. Destroy was always the only option that made sense to me, and she is just that awesome. The real question is what happens next, with the relay out of order and everyone trapped in the Sol system over a devastated Earth.**

**About the everyone-in-the-Sol-system thing. I admit I went the teensiest bit AU there, because I think Bioware broke their own game with the Normandy on some random jungle planet outside the system at the end. Obviously the ship didn't use the mass relay to get there. They couldn't. The Crucible was currently breaking the mass relay. And in-game, it's impossible to get to another system from Sol **_**without**_** using the mass relay, so I decided I **_**wouldn't**_** screw the game rules in my ending. That meant that either the Normandy went FTL into empty space until it ran out of fuel, or that they crashed on a planet in the system. I took the jungle bit and wrote out the extra moon/planet/whatever. So sue me. **

**I'll keep you posted! Keep me posted on what you think!**

**LMSharp **


	53. New World: Aftershocks

**Disclaimer: Inspired by Bioware's Mass Effect trilogy, and uses many of the characters. Rights disclaimed.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Discussed character death.**

**Characters/Pairings: Tali, Primarch Adrien Victus, Garrus, OMC Joren Kwin (a salarian general), Miranda, Chakwas, Beth Shepard (unconscious), Wrex, Kaidan, Hackett, Daro'Xen vas Moreh, and OFC Hope Paxton-Lopez. ShepardxGarrus, Shepard/Tali friendship, and Garrus/**_**Normandy**_** crew friendship in the background, Garrus/Wrex/Kaidan friendship. Shepard/Miranda friendship, Shepard/Chakwas friendship/family. Referenced Shepard/Paxton family friendship, Paxton family. Garrus/Hope friendship.**

* * *

New World: Aftershocks

Tali didn't know what the problem was. The geth were all just…dead. There was no reason for it, no trauma or computer failure. When the Crucible went off, they had all just gone down with the Reapers. Six months ago, the flotilla would have rejoiced, but now, the geth were allies. And they needed them now more than ever.

The Charon relay had been damaged in the blast. All the fleets, all the people in them, were stuck in the Sol system until it was repaired. There weren't a lot of people that knew about mass relay technology, but now they would have to learn, or none of the non-humans would ever see their homeworlds again. If they didn't all starve first.

They'd only brought so much food for the assault on the Reapers. One liveship, but it couldn't provide dextro rations for all the quarians and the turians that couldn't eat the food Earth produced, and there was little enough of that. There were plans to convert two or three of the warships into liveships, but for that they needed time and manpower they just didn't have.

It had been five days since the Reapers had died, and relations were already strained with the turians. If there'd been enough to go around, of course her people would be willing to share their supplies. At least, she hoped that they would. Maybe not.

But if the geth could be reactivated, they could help retrofit the warships into liveships, accelerate the growth of dextro foodstuffs. They could help with the repair of the mass relay, probably as well as the asari or the salarians, or even better. They wouldn't need food or resources. It was very important, vital, to reactivate the geth. And though there were six others working the project with her, everyone decided that since she was the big expert on the geth, the big hero from the _Normandy_, that she should be in charge.

Oh, Keelah. Tali had no idea what the hell she was doing.

The hold was silent, as Tali looked at the disassembled parts in front of her, and the code on her omni-tool, and tried to decide how to reanimate an extinct species.

* * *

"What have you got, Vakarian?" Victus asked.

Garrus produced his bottle of dextro-levo wine from the _Normandy_. It was mostly gone by now, but he'd been thinking, and he thought maybe, just maybe, there was enough left for a sample. Joren Kwin took the bottle, and looked at it thoughtfully.

"Dextro-levo wine," he observed. "A novelty product with a small market. We produce it for dextro species bonded to asari."

Victus looked sharply at Garrus, and Garrus thought the Primarch might know that he hadn't had the wine for an asari girlfriend. Hell, the salarian might know, too. They were all quick, and it wasn't like he and Beth had been keeping things under wraps last time on the Citadel, before the Reapers took it, and there had been a few reporters and people with cameras around. News traveled. But all of them knew that he hadn't brought the wine to discuss his personal life.

"Dextro-levo wine implies the existence of dextro-levo fruit, doesn't it? Or at least of some synthetic process that makes the stuff consumable by species that run on both amino acid systems," Garrus said. "The question here is if you can pull off this novelty trick with something more substantial than wine."

Victus breathed in sharply. "This could solve everything," he said. "Our ships will run out of supplies in a matter of weeks. The quarians can't—or won't—support us all. If we could find some way to convert levo foodstuffs—"

"You're presupposing there's levo foodstuffs to convert," Joren broke in. "Earth is devastated, Primarch. The harvest for the half of the planet that should be producing it right now has been destroyed, and it will be months before the other half can grow more food. The planet below is in the middle of a famine, and the humans aren't inclined to share what little food they have with aliens, whatever their government says." He shook his head. "The truth is that those of us that run on levo amino acids aren't much better off than the turians and quarians."

"So we've won the war against the Reapers, only to starve in the skies above our field of victory?" the Primarch asked.

Joren hesitated. "Not necessarily. Our intel suggests the humans are reclaiming greenhouses and growing crops genetically modified to mature quickly even now. By the time we begin to starve, there may be a new harvest. When food starts to become less scarce, we believe we can exert pressure on them to remember how we have helped them," he replied. "And of course, most of the salarians are even now working with the quarians and asari to repair the damaged relay."

"But what does that do for us in the meantime?" Victus demanded.

Joren tapped the bottle with a finger. "I'm not saying what Advisor Vakarian proposes is an impossibility," he said finally. "I only mean to make you aware of the difficulties of such an undertaking. The salarians here are soldiers, here against the wishes of our government, because we understood the urgency of the fight against the Reapers. We are not scientists, our access to levo supplies is currently limited, and any dextro-levo experimentation on vegetation or livestock will be a massive and time consuming project, when our main priority must remain the reactivation of the Charon mass relay."

"But it can be done," Garrus said. "You'll try?"

Joren was silent for a long moment. "The salarians here came because we were aware the galaxy must stand together," he said quietly. "I…I have one or two men that might be able to work on it. I can't promise they'll find a solution large enough or in time for you. But—"

"You'll take a look." Garrus finished.

Joren inclined his head wearily.

"That's all we can ask," Garrus said, shaking the salarian general's hand. "Thank you."

* * *

"The worst injury is of course the chest trauma she sustained under the wreckage of the Citadel," Miranda said. She handed over datapads and x-rays to Karin, who looked them over, frowning. "We didn't get to her in time. If we had better equipment, but—"

"Without a lung transplant or restructuring we don't have the resources to provide, she won't ever regain full respiratory functionality," Karin observed. "Maybe in a few years the galaxy might be in a position to fix it, but until that occurs, Beth won't be able to return to active duty in the Alliance. She'll have shortness of breath, fatigue. Any intense, long-term physical effort will be beyond her."

"There's the damage to the cybernetics as well," Miranda continued. "Almost all of them were completely destroyed in the blast from the Crucible. Like EDI. Like the geth. I may be able to repair some, reinvent others. But I just don't know, Karin."

"But she will live?"

Miranda nodded. "I believe so. Shepard survived her injuries for almost sixty hours alone on the Citadel before the crew of the _Normandy_ retrieved her." She gently brushed a tendril of hair out of Beth's bandaged face. "This is a woman that wants to live. She'll recover. And according to my projections, even with as…limited…as our resources are, she'll be able to have a completely normal life. Compared with the Lazarus Project, we have a lot more to work with."

"Yes. She's not actually dead yet. That is something," Karin said. "What do you need me to do?"

"You probably know more about what medication she needs for her injuries than I do," Miranda admitted. "I brought her back to life. I didn't heal her wounds; I rebuilt her. Anti-bacterial, anti-inflammatory, treatment for the scarring. And she'll need the dosages she'd have required before the Lazarus Project."

"I'll start work immediately," Karin promised. "And you?"

"I'll do what I can to restore as much functionality to her damaged lung as I can and begin reconstructing her arm," Miranda said. "But we'll need to start treatment on her scarring quickly, too, to minimize the surgeries she'll require."

Karin nodded in agreement, and meeting adjourned, she brought up her omnitool to start an email to the Alliance. Miranda went to the other side of the room to grab what supplies they had available and begin.

* * *

"My people are getting restless. We want to go home, now there's something to go home to. When will the mass relay be working again? I said the krogan wouldn't go to war against the turians, but sharing a planet with them is a little much for most of us."

"It's not our planet, Wrex," Garrus said. "We all want to go home. The scientists are working on it as fast as they can."

Kaidan sighed. He massaged his temples. His migraines were worse these days. Less related to difficulties with his implants and more to stress, Garrus thought. "The latest estimate from the asari is six weeks until the relay is operational again," he said, "But even once the Charon Relay is working again, it'll only get anyone as far as the Arcturus Stream. The beam from the Crucible went through the relay. It's what broke the relay. We don't know what we'll find on the other side now. It could be that all the relays in the galaxy are in a comparable state. With the relay down, we can't get communications out of the system to find out."

Hackett absorbed the information, fingers steepled in front of his face. "So even once we get the relay working, journeying out of the system might be a months-long undertaking involving several stops for further repairs," he said. "To prepare for a journey like that, the fleets will need supplies. Supplies we don't have."

"I don't think anybody's leaving the system for a few months yet," Garrus said grimly. "The thing is, I'm not sure we have a few months. Food is scarce all around. My people are having troubles with the quarians, and now there's problems with the krogan?"

"Tensions are also high with the mercs that came in from the Terminus systems," Hackett admitted. "They're tired of playing nice with others."

"_Humans_ are tired of playing nice with others," Kaidan said harshly. "Let's play it straight, Admiral. Earth is scared. Most of the people don't know what's going on. They're trying to rebuild, and they're starting to see the fleets less as heroes and more as a drain on resources. It's wrong, but however strong the cooperative stance the Alliance takes is, there are more citizens on Earth than we can control. Rioting has already started in some places, and it's only been two weeks. It'll only get worse."

Garrus looked down at the center of the table, and decided to say what they were all thinking. "It's going to be another war," he said wearily. "The only question is where and how it's going to break out."

Silence fell as everyone at the table sagged beneath the weight of the truth. Hackett pulled together first. "Our job will be to minimalize the damage, gentlemen. Wrex, can you control your people?"

"Any krogan that starts a war will regret it," Wrex said.

Garrus laughed mirthlessly. "That's not a yes."

"I'll do what I can, Garrus," Wrex growled, angry. "My people are warriors. That's why you brought us here. None of us are happy sitting around on our asses, and the food shortage and the human attitude isn't helping. But I'm not looking to tear apart the krogan future because of a hiccup. I and mine will stand with you. For peace." He paused a moment, laughed. "Never thought I'd say that."

"Vakarian, what's the turian-quarian situation?" Hackett asked.

"Bad," Garrus said succinctly. "Our allies in the flotilla inform us that the quarians are trying to convert some of their warships to more liveships for more dextro supplies, but it's basically the same situation you have on Earth. It's not happening fast enough, and not all the quarians are willing to give us aid, just like not all humans are willing to give aid to the asari, salarians, and krogan. Everyone's hungry, but—"

"But your people have it worst," Kaidan said quietly. "They can't process levo, and they don't have their own liveships. How long?"

Garrus spread his hands wide on the table. "Unless something changes, the generous estimate is seven weeks," he admitted. "The good news is, if I can keep us from declaring war for that long, we probably won't have the energy for it."

"Garrus—"Kaidan said. "If there was something we could do—"

"There's not," Garrus said. "So there's no use getting upset about it. We have other plans in place…but it's a long shot."

"Nevertheless," Hackett said, "I'll put a team on scavenging detail. We'll search the camps and the cities. See if we can't find any dextro supplies any turian visitors might have left behind. It won't do much, but everything helps."

Garrus nodded. "And we'll be ready for war, when it does break out."

"Not ready," Hackett said. "It's still too soon. But they won't catch us off guard."

* * *

It was too bad Shepard had seen fit to trash Cerberus, Miranda thought. She could have really used access to her old Lazarus Project files. Not that she could get to them, even if Cerberus were still intact and inclined to give her what she needed. Damaged relays did put a dampener on communications.

It wasn't that Shepard couldn't do without many of the cybernetics they'd originally installed in her now. Her body had adapted and healed on its own: after over a year walking around and saving the galaxy in it, it was completely alive and human again. Examination had revealed that some of the cybernetics had been little more than pins already when the blast from the Crucible had gone off and destroyed them.

But the destruction of the cybernetics in Shepard's body had blown over a dozen tiny wounds into her body, and the best and fastest way to heal her was to replace them. The difficulty was, Miranda didn't have access to the specs on all the different modifications they'd used on Shepard. She was having to retrieve every piece and reverse engineer it from the scraps that were left, and then determine whether or not she could rebuild it with the materials the struggling Alliance could grant them. Time was also a constraint: if they didn't start reinstalling Shepard's cybernetics soon, her body would heal without them, and any pain or impairment she suffered from her injuries on the Citadel would be permanent without further surgery.

It wouldn't be catastrophic by any means if Miranda were unable to replace the cybernetics in time. But Beth would be slower, weaker. Her body wouldn't metabolize toxins as quickly. She'd be able to drink herself into a stupor again, which should please her, but someone could also poison her, which did _not_ please Miranda. Shepard had been the most influential person in the galaxy _before_ the stunt on the Citadel that had saved the galaxy from the Reapers. When she woke, all that power and influence would be trebled, increased exponentially. It would only be a matter of time before the assassins started coming, from those that wanted her out of the way, or wanted to cement fearsome reputations by killing Commander Shepard. Beth had many powerful friends that would protect her, and a genius for making new ones. Garrus would defend her to his dying breath. But Miranda wanted Shepard well able to defend herself, every bit as capably as she had been able to do fresh off the table at Freedom's Progress. She knew it might be an impossibility. But she was going to try.

Miranda rotated another implant under the microscope, noting its purpose and construction on the datapad to her right. On her left, there was a pan of others to be examined. Behind her, a workbench, with far too few components available.

"What the hell is this?" Tali demanded. She jabbed her finger at the bit of code onscreen. Xen looked it over once.

"Ah. A modification I introduced. An improvement, if you will. The purpose of that program is to control the restored geth so they never again turn on their quarian masters," she said coolly.

"We do not want to control the geth, Xen! That would be slavery," Tali argued. "We've discussed this! The geth are our friends and allies. We want to bring them back as they were, a people in their own right, not rebuild them differently!"

"You sound like Zal'Koris," Xen scoffed. "The geth are not children, Tali'Zorah. They are not our friends. They are machines, however intelligent. My only aim is to insure these machines _remain_ our allies. Without this program, how do _you_ propose we achieve that?"

"We don't force them! If we imbed this program into the geth, and we restore them to intelligence, don't you think they'll find it and realize we're controlling them? True AI can change their own programming. They'd remove it, and then they _would _turn against us. That kind of thinking started the whole war in the first place. Take it out."

"You're assuming we can restore the geth to AI status at all," Xen pointed out. Tali tensed, and looked away. Xen stood taller, sensing the point. "Whatever your Shepard did, it destroyed every synthetic life form in this system along with the Reapers. It isn't unlikely that the pulse that damaged the relay transmitted this effect across the entire galaxy. We are rebuilding the geth from scratch, Tali'Zorah, and we do not have access to the Reaper upgrades that made each platform a true AI. We may not be able to build enough geth for any of them to achieve even the limited AI status they had before."

Tali deleted the line of programming she'd objected to, anyway. "We have to try," she said. "The reactivation of the geth would be a huge addition to the workforce on the liveships and the mass relay, without draining our resources. We need the geth. And we need them to be what they were. But I'm going to do this right, Xen. For Legion. For Shepard. For me."

* * *

Miranda breathed in once, looked over at Karin, and activated the program. The machines started working. It had taken seventy two hours to program it to reconstruct the capillaries, veins, arteries, muscle tissue, and bone-setting in Shepard's crushed right arm. The reconstruction would take a week, and either Karin or Miranda herself would have to supervise every minute of it. After that it would be months of healing and physical therapy before Shepard had full use of the arm again, but this…_this_ was the hard part.

"It's amazing," Karin murmured, watching the camera feed on the screen, taking in every detail. The time Miranda had spent programming the machine, she'd spent checking the numbers, running it against her knowledge of anatomy and familiarizing herself with every detail of the process. She was very good, Miranda thought again. Not quite as good as Miranda herself, but no one ever was. But her dedication to the project was unmatched. She wanted Beth healed every bit as badly as Miranda did, or more even. Miranda trusted Karin's sharp eyes and attention to detail wouldn't miss anything. So she gave herself permission to look away, at the vitals monitor instead.

"I've seen it before," she replied, watching Shepard's brain activity on the screen, the rise and fall that was the digital representation of her dreams. "I cared then, too. But not like I do now. She's my friend. Probably the best one I have."

Karin typed in a .023 degree correction for one of the needles on the console. "And she's the closest thing I have to a daughter," she answered. "She calls me 'Mom,' sometimes. I always love hearing it from her. But I never could quite bring myself to call her by her given name in return."

"I know what you mean," Miranda admitted. "The 'Commander Shepard' mythos is powerful, even without the iron hand of Alliance protocol on your shoulder. But she prefers Beth, you know. She asked me to call her by her name, on our last shore leave. I've been working on it, in my head. I don't always manage it. But when she wakes, this time, I want her to hear a friend. Not a stranger giving her orders."

"Hopefully there won't be any hacked mechs this time," Karin teased gently. "Perhaps I should practice myself, though. I don't think she'll stay Commander Shepard this time, however much the galaxy wants her to do so. I think the galaxy will have to get to know someone it hasn't ever seen: Beth Shepard, the woman."

Miranda watched Shepard's healing face, peacefully oblivious to the machine reassembling the broken bones in her arm, gluing them together piece by shattered piece. "Not the goddess, not the hero, not even the soldier. Beth Shepard, the woman," she repeated thoughtfully. "It's rather terrifying, isn't it? But she certainly deserves it."

* * *

Tali's eyes burned. How did Shepard put it? They felt like scorched craters in her skull? She had been staring at a screen so long she felt they were about to melt. No one would know, because they were behind the damn mask. But tomorrow she'd be Tali'Zorah vas _Normandy_, the eyeless freak. She'd have to go around the entire rest of her life, however short that was, without eyes, because she'd burned them out stupidly trying to resurrect the geth.

She hit another key apathetically. But this time, a line of text came back that she hadn't typed.

_Query: Directive? _

Tali sat bolt upright. A response! Hours and hours of nonstop work, and finally, a response! She'd reactivated a geth, or a few of them. Maybe. She didn't know.

_Diagnostic,_ she typed. _How many are you? Can you understand me? _

It became rapidly apparent that she'd only managed to reactivate three dozen geth programs, on the old network. They weren't self-aware, hardly even qualified as VI, far from the AI she needed them to be. It was the first progress she'd made, but it wasn't enough.

It was something to go on. That, at least. But Tali buried her face in her arms.

There was no time. No time. Relations with the turians were deteriorating by the day. So far they'd only managed to convert one warship into a liveship, and it would be weeks before crops were available, even using GMOs, according to Raan. They needed at least one more liveship to support themselves, and three more if they were to aid the turians, too, and the flotilla was increasingly disinclined to help the turians. It'd be war in a matter of weeks, perhaps days, without the geth.

Tali swallowed, raised her head, and tried to figure out what she'd done to bring the few programs she had back online so she could keep doing it.

* * *

The snow crunched wetly underfoot. Garrus shivered, and his stomach gnawed at him. He ignored it, walking back through the war-blasted streets of Vancouver toward the waiting shuttle. Here and there someone had on a light, but mostly the city was dark, empty. Many people hadn't returned yet. Many couldn't, or wouldn't. Ever. But the Alliance had. They'd started patching up the old Central headquarters, and those officials that had survived the occupation and indoctrination had set up there to start pulling Earth back together.

Garrus spent most of his days now in this forsaken icehole, trying to keep the fragile peace between the united fleets, preparing for war when it inevitably cracked. This time during Earth's solar revolution, it wasn't much better than Noveria here. And Beth had lived here for eighteen years of her life. Kaidan hadn't lived here quite as long, but he loved the place. Garrus didn't have the faintest idea why anyone would live here. There were tens of thousands of kilometers of much pleasanter country on the planet, and yet their planetary center of government was here. Humans were all insane.

Beth was only thing that kept him coming back every day, kept him wrestling with the red tape and the politics and the idiots. He'd visited her this morning. Miranda, Chakwas, and a couple other techs were keeping her in a recovered hospital far to the south on this continent. The location was highly classified, so they couldn't be bothered by reporters and civilians while Beth was healing. It was much, much warmer there. Middle of a desert in a small town, in fact, which was probably why the Reapers hadn't done much to the place. Beth was still undergoing major surgery almost every day and would be for a while yet, so they were still keeping her under. But watching her sleep, imagining what she'd say and do if she were awake, kept Garrus going. She'd nearly killed herself saving the galaxy. The best damn way he could help her was to take care of all the grim, boring stuff that needed to be done so the whole place didn't descend into chaos mere weeks after all that had gone down.

Still, it'd been a long, hard day, and every day was harder and longer, without her.

The sound of breaking glass distracted Garrus from his brooding. His head came up, and he drew his pistol. There. Across the street. There was a shadow with one of those clubs humans used for that sport—a baseball bat-standing by a broken window. Someone was busting into the grocery.

Garrus reacted instinctively, from years on the beat at C-Sec. "Put your hands up!" he called, training his pistol on the head of the perp.

The head twisted to look over the shoulder, and the entire body tensed. Then the bat fell to the broken pavement, and the perp did as he'd asked. "Don't shoot! I'm unarmed, and no one's with me!" A voice cried. Human. Female. Possibly even a juvenile, by the tonality and stature of the silhouette.

Garrus lowered his gun slightly and crossed the street. He moved to seize the girl's shoulder, but she twisted, and punched up hard and fast under his rib cage. If he hadn't jumped back right then, she could've taken him out, but he didn't move fast enough, all the same. The blow still landed, and he wasn't in his hardsuit. She punched the air right out of him, and followed up immediately as he staggered back, stunned, and hit his gun a couple meters away.

She brought her foot up then, but Garrus knew what he was dealing with now. He moved aside so his spurs weren't where she stepped, and let her weight carry her forward. She tripped, and he followed up with a solid punch himself to the girl's abdomen, checking it so he didn't kill her. He swept his left leg around and to her ankle, and she fell, gasping. He grabbed her arms in a lock, and Garrus drew his assault rifle and pressed the barrel to her spine. She froze.

"What are you going to do?" she demanded. "Just kill me? There's no jail to throw me in. They haven't got the jails up again. This store's abandoned, anyway. Nobody home. Nobody'll _ever_ be home, probably. I wasn't hurting anybody."

The girl's arms in his hands were dangerously thin, tight with fear and defiance. "This store's been abandoned for months," he said. "Anything in there's probably rotten, or looted already."

"Doesn't mean I can't try. I have a right to survive, the same as anybody," the girl retorted.

"_How_ you do it matters," Garrus returned.

"What are you, a cop? You aren't even human."

"No. And you know something about fighting turians, for a kid and a thief. Who taught you those techniques?" he demanded. "To go for the ribcage, the spurs?"

The kid snorted. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. You were too fast for me, anyway." She laughed bitterly. "Shows what I know."

Garrus loosened his grip slightly, and withdrew his gun a couple centimeters. She didn't try to get away this time. "I'm pathetic," the girl said. Her voice was thick, like she was trying not to cry.

Garrus let the girl go entirely. "Don't try anything," he warned.

She raised her hands again, this time ironically, but stayed put. Garrus activated his omni-tool, and hacked a nearby streetlight. It came on, giving him his first good look at the girl.

She wasn't quite as young as he'd thought at first. Only a juvenile by human standards, and not for much longer, it looked like. Maybe sixteen. Still shortish, though. About the same dark tan color as Shepard, but with brown eyes, and reddish brown hair that stuck out all over the place. She gave him the once-over, too, and her hostility immediately evaporated.

"Hey. I know you," she said. "From the vids. You were on the _Normandy_, right? Garrus Vakarian. Archangel." She shook her head. "No wonder you beat me."

"You're a pretty lousy thief," Garrus told her. "Generally, you ought to make sure no one's around _before_ you break into the store."

Her shoulders sagged. "I know," she said. "This isn't me. I just—I don't know what to do."

Garrus put away his assault gun, and retrieved his pistol and her bat. She didn't move. "Not something you're used to?" he guessed.

"Hell, no," she sighed. "God. My mom worked her butt off all her life so I'd never have to be steal, or join the gangs. She—she'd kick my ass."

She walked over to the nearby abandoned bus stop and sat down, all the fight gone out of her. Garrus followed her, and sat down on the other end of the bench. "She died?"

The girl jerked her head. "In the final battle," she confirmed. Her eyes glistened in the yellow lamplight. "We were in London," she said. "Fighting. I was with her. We were holding off husks at a base camp outta town, when a bunch of Reapers flew in. There was something big going on. I don't know what it was all about, but there was a lot of fire due north. Guess the people up there did something to really freak the bastards."

As she spoke, Garrus saw it all again. The devastation, the great human city burning in a hundred different places and Reaper forces swarming over everything. The Reapers, one, two, three of them, black against the white-blue of the beam up to the Citadel. Medi-gel working to keep his smoldering, ruined hardsuit from roasting him alive as James, with a serious torso wound himself, half-carried him back to the _Normandy_. And Beth—eyes bright in a face darkened with sweat and grime, hair shining like a beacon against the gloom, leaning forward over the ramp, pressing his hand.

_Whatever happens, I love you. I always will. Go. Go!_

He closed his eyes.

The girl continued, heavily. "I looked up for one second," she said. "One second, just to see what the hell was going on. Stood still just a _second_ too long. Ravager got a bead on me, and—"she stopped, swallowed. "My mom pushed me out of the way, but she took the rocket full on. The husks, the Ravagers, the Reapers, _all _of it just…_died_ half an hour later. But it was too late for her."

"I'm sorry," Garrus said quietly.

"I caught a ride back here," she said. "Home. But it's not home anymore. My aunt and uncle, my cousins are all dead. Our apartment is a scrap heap. There's no work, no food, and I—"

"What about your father?" Garrus asked her.

She shook her head. "It was just my mom and me," she said. "My dad died when I was really little. Shot in a gang fight. Guess he got off easy."

"But you fought? The two of you. You fought in the Resistance?"

The girl nodded. "My mom got a bunch of us out before the Reapers hit."

"How?" Garrus asked. "Earth was completely unprepared. They locked Be—they locked Commander Shepard up and didn't listen to her until the day of the invasion."

The girl laughed harshly. "No. They didn't. The Alliance didn't believe her about the Reapers, most of them. Idiots. But some of the civilians did. Of course, most of them were completely unprepared, too. But my mom was ready. We were lucky." She looked sideways at Garrus. "You probably think I'm just a stupid kid, sir, telling stories to get outta going to jail. Or whatever."

"I'm not going to lock you up," Garrus interrupted. He handed her the bat. "You're right: I'm not a cop. And it's not like we've got someplace to keep you, unless you count the _Normandy_'s brig. But shooting you seems a bit like overkill."

She smiled weakly at the pun, and didn't move. "Guess I'm grateful for that," she said. "Especially since killing criminals is kind of your thing. Thanks for the reprieve."

"What stories do you think I won't believe?" Garrus asked.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

Garrus leaned back on the bench. "Try me. The galaxy's insane right now. I could use a good whopper, especially now."

The girl regarded him. Her face softened. "Yeah, I'll bet," she said. "It must suck, being stuck here. Not even the place that _used_ to be home, for you. And I'm guessing things are pretty tough for you, too, if all those edicts they keep passing about sharing food with aliens are anything to go by. And with Commander Shepard. I mean, you know her, right? She's not just 'Commander Shepard' to you. You're her friend. And on the vids, you always seem especially…" she trailed off, unsure if she quite dared. "How is she?" she asked instead, softly.

"She'll recover," Garrus told the girl, wishing for it hard himself for the two hundred-and third time that day. "She just needs time."

The girl was quiet for a long time. Then, with the air of someone sharing a precious secret, she spoke again. "I met her," she said, very softly. "A couple of times. When she was locked up here last year. My mom knew her, as a kid. That's how mom knew what to watch for. That's how she got us out when communications from Arcturus went down. Commander Shepard told her."

Garrus stared, realizing with dawning horror exactly who this angry, desperate orphan girl must be. Shepard had told him about her time under house arrest, about reconnecting with her old friend from the Tenth Street Reds, and later, how that friend had escaped Vancouver with her daughter and several others, organized a civilian branch of the Resistance, and fought. He'd laughed with her as she told him about her old friend, held her as she worried, but seeing the girl here, now, completely alone, an orphan that had lost everything to the war, made it all so real.

Hope Paxton-Lopez continued describing her Commander Shepard reverently, oblivious to Garrus' changed expression. "She was—she was incredible. So strong and brave. Beautiful, but not like she is in the stupid vids that pair her off with a knockoff Admiral Anderson or Matriarch Benezia or something, where she's this airhead in armor that wouldn't even work. Funny. That's something they almost _never_ get right. She taught me that stuff. How to fight a turian. Only she showed me on that other guy from the vids—her guard, Vega. She said he wasn't as quick as a real turian. Guess she was probably thinking of you, sir." She laughed a little self-consciously. "That was it, really. We talked some. She asked me about school. I told her I wanted to go for the Shepard scholarship, do two years' service in the Alliance and then get a degree in political science. Well. That plan's kaput." She shrugged, looked back over at him, half defiantly, half shyly. "So. That's my whopper. Pretty pathetic, huh?"

"Someone has to teach you how to spin them," Garrus managed. "You should've said you singlehandedly incapacitated Jimmy Vega and broke Shepard out on the day of the invasion, then carried the Earth Resistance on your shoulders for nine long months, slaughtering thousands of Reaper forces with only that baseball bat until Shepard came back to repay the favor. How do you ever expect to earn a killer reputation if you tell them that believable, Paxton-Lopez?"

Hope was silent for a long moment. Then she smiled, slowly, so wide it almost threatened to split her face in half. "I didn't tell you my name," she whispered. "She told you about me. She remembered me? Commander Shepard remembered me?"

"She doesn't give just anyone turian-stomping lessons," Garrus told her. "Though, between you and me? Vega definitely needs work, but Shepard still can't take me."

It was a blatant lie and Paxton-Lopez knew it immediately. She laughed, a bright ringing sound worlds away from the mirthless sounds of before. It echoed through the cold, empty street, and she crossed her arms. "Come on. Tell me another one."

Garrus caught her eye. "Really. What are you doing here, Paxton-Lopez?" he asked. "Breaking into shops where there's nothing for you, anyway? The Alliance has set up refugee camps, until there's more to go around and people can start moving back into homes."

She shifted. "I know," she said. "I just—it's like if I go there, it's really true. I'm a refugee. An—an orphan. I just—I thought I could make it on my own. Not doing a bang-up job of it." She didn't look away. "Really. What are you going to do with me?"

Garrus considered. Hope Paxton-Lopez wasn't a criminal. Not really. Just a desperate, hungry kid in trouble. And a veteran. He'd already said he wouldn't lock her up or shoot her. But he didn't feel right, just letting her go, either. "I don't know," he admitted.

The girl searched his face. "The brig of the _Normandy_," she said finally. "Is there a cot?"

Garrus paused, struck. That was something he hadn't thought about. But she was a friend of Shepard's, inasmuch as Shepard had nonmilitary, normal human friends. Most of the crew would like her. The novelty might even snap Joker out of his silent, glass-eyed grief, for a while. And it wasn't like the _Normandy_ was on a military tour right now. She was parked in orbit with the rest of the united fleets. Docked.

"Yeah," he said, recovering. "And a blanket."

"You guys got anything to eat?"

Garrus' insides growled at him angrily. He shrugged. "We're about as well off as anybody else right now," he said. "But it's a hell of a lot better than here."

"Arrest me?" Hope asked quietly.

Garrus looked down at the girl, and stood. "Sure," he said. "Come with me." More snow started falling as Hope stood to go with him. "Damn," Garrus cursed. "Quickly!"

"I read about turians in school," Hope remarked. "Before the war. Your planet's a lot warmer, right? Not used to the snow?" She followed him as he led the way to the shuttle.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, well. Tell me what you think! **

**Coming Soon: Three weeks after the destruction of the Reapers and the damage to the mass relay, things are getting desperate for the fleets trapped over Earth. Beth Shepard lies unconscious, healing, as the galaxy she built swirls and changes around her. Will she wake to find it destroyed before she even gets a chance to live in it? **

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp **


	54. New World: Pressure Point

**Disclaimer: Inspired by the events of the ME trilogy, borrowing characters from the 'verse. All intellectual and property rights to Bioware.**

**Section Warnings: Language. Graphic violence. Character death. (No main or squad characters, though, in case you were worried.)**

**Characters/Pairings: Shala'Raan vas **_**Tombay**_**, Tali, Daro'Xen, various as-yet non-sentient geth. Adrien Victus, Garrus, OFC Hope Paxton-Lopez, James, Kaidan, Jack, Wrex, Grunt, Hackett, Various OM and OFCs. Shepard. Shala/Tali friendship. Garrus/Tali friendship. Garrus/Victus as allies, possible friends, Garrus/Hope/Vega friendship. Garrus/Vega/Kaidan/Jack/Wrex/Grunt friendship. Mentioned: Han'Gerrel, Jacob Taylor.**

* * *

New World: Pressure Point

"What have you got for us, Tali, Daro?" Shala'Raan asked wearily. "To be completely honest, we are desperate. This morning, Primarch Victus and Han'Gerrel nearly came to blows."

"We have two platforms up and running," Tali said, gesturing at the geth on consoles on the other side of the room. "About eight hundred programs, all told. They're getting smarter, but even now, they're simple VI. They aren't self-aware yet. They haven't started to think for themselves, and we still have no idea how to even begin to approximate the Reaper upgrades that made each geth a fully actualized AI."

"_Some_ of us are still not sure it is a good idea to even attempt to rebuild the geth that way," Xen said acidly. "What's to stop fully actualized AI from turning on us again, unless we curb them? But Tali'Zorah won't allow _that_, either."

"Your caution is admirable, Daro'Xen," Shala said, "But Tali'Zorah is correct. The more intelligent the geth are, the more help they can be to us. And we need their help now more than ever. Can you program them to assist with the liveship conversion?" she asked.

Xen nodded and waved a hand irritably. "Take them. They'll go with you. We'll keep working. We're bringing in more platforms now, and all of them will gain intelligence as we activate more programs. We have at least managed to restore that to them."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Xen," Tali said humbly.

"No," she agreed curtly. "Raan, if that's everything?"

"That's everything," Shala'Raan said. "Um…geth?"

"That's Vostok and that's Armada," Tali told her. She wrung her hands sadly. "Not that they really recognize their names."

But the geth swiveled their heads. "Acknowledged." Vostok spoke. "How may these units serve?"

"Come with me," Raan told them. "We could use your help with the liveships."

"We will assist," Armada said blandly. Both platforms left their consoles to follow Shala'Raan.

"It is rather sad," Raan remarked, "Isn't it?"

"Please," Xen said. "It's nothing of the sort. The geth are machines. I cannot understand why you people cannot comprehend this one, simple fact."

"Whatever they are, we need more," Shala'Raan said. "Quickly."

* * *

"They don't have a leg to stand on, Vakarian! We aren't trying to steal their food! We offered to pay in credits and labor. With all of us working on the liveships, we could convert the ships, grow food more quickly. Everyone would be better off!"

"The men you offered to send weren't equipped with enviro-suits, sir," Garrus said. "We don't have enough enviro-suits, anyway, and the ones we have aren't made to quarian levels of sterility. We could grow enough food for both our fleets, but the quarians would all be poisoned by it just as much as if they'd eaten levo. They can't let us in on the project."

"And Earth can't support dextro crops and we don't have liveship technology; I know the arguments! _You _can tell them to our starving troops!" Victus snapped. "Some of our ships are ready to engage the quarians and try to take supplies by force!"

"You can't let them, sir!" Garrus said, gripping the edge of the console tightly. "The second we let fighting break out this whole system comes apart at the seams. You know that! The Reapers almost destroyed the galaxy. We are _not_ going to finish the job for them! We've got to hold on."

"And so the turian fleet starves in the skies above our field of victory? I won't let that happen."

"It won't," Garrus said. "The salarians are working on modifying levo crops—"

"Very few of them, and they aren't professional scientists—"

"The mass relay is closer to being repaired every day—"

"Even if it's repaired we don't know that we'll be able to make it farther than Arcturus!"

"And I _trust_ Admiral Tali'Zorah vas _Normandy_," Garrus finished, firmly. "She's already begun reactivating the geth to solve the clean labor problem. The geth will help retrofit the liveships without poisoning the supplies for the quarians, grow more foodstuffs more quickly than the quarians could do it without them. Admiral Tali'Zorah won't let us down. Ever."

"She's just one of four admirals the quarians have in the system," Victus said. "Even if she can pull off a miracle and resurrect the geth to solve the issue before it's too late, will she be able to convince the flotilla to come to our aid? Admiral Gerrel is—"he paused. "—much less inclined toward galactic peace."

"Admiral Raan _is_," Garrus argued. "When Tali shows her it can be done, she'll vote to help us."

"And Admiral Xen?" Victus demanded.

That was the weak place in his argument and Garrus knew it. He had no idea which side of the question Xen would come down on in the end. "Daro'Xen will do what's best for the quarian people in the end," he said finally. "I don't think she wants a war if it can be avoided."

"Vakarian, I—"Victus sighed. In the holo-field, he bowed his head. "Nobody wants a war. Well. Gerrel might. I'll do what I can, Garrus. But it'll get harder and harder. When people get hungry, reason and morality often take a back seat."

Garrus' own stomach gnawed at him. There was never enough now. "Honor doesn't," he answered. "We owe it to the fallen to make it through this. _Normandy_ out."

He signed out and half fell against the wall. But then behind him, someone knocked on the doorway.

Resignedly, he turned, to see Hope standing there, wearing that same look of mixed guilt and pity Detective Pilar used to have in his old days at C-Sec, whenever she'd been sent to tell him Executor Pallin wanted to chew him out for something again. "Just tell me, Hope," he said.

"Sam got a message from Urdnot Wrex she wanted me to pass on," Hope said. "The krogan have split. Half of them have allied with those scum mercs from the Terminus. They've declared war on the Alliance and are moving toward Vancouver."

Garrus nodded once, stood up straight, squeezed the kid's shoulder, and headed for the elevator, and the shuttle bay.

* * *

"What's your name?" Tali asked.

"This unit is referred to as Nikili, Creator-Tali'Zorah," the geth replied.

"Nice day, don't you think?"

"We are sorry, we are not programmed with the proper context. Define the parameters of a 'nice day,' and we shall assess."

"Just, do you like it? It is enjoyable? A good day to be alive?"

The geth platform whirred, blue visual sensor staring steadily back at her mask. "This does not compute, Creator-Tali'Zorah," the geth said finally.

Tali sighed. She took the platform's hands in hers and pressed them. "What do you want to do today, Nikili?" she asked, quietly.

"This unit assists in any way possible, Creator-Tali'Zorah. What is required?"

"Yes, but why do you _want_ to help?" Tali asked.

Silence. Then, "We are programmed to assist."

Tali bowed her head. She squeezed the platform's hands one more time. Not for Nikili, because Nikili didn't understand. For her. "Thank you, Nikili," she said finally. "Go over there with Iso, Tekka, and Pix. Inna'Plin will take you to the others."

"We shall obey," the geth said, rising. Tali let it go. Not them, not her. It.

The unit did not have a soul.

Not yet.

* * *

Garrus jumped from the shuttle to meet Kaidan, with James behind. Hope had asked to come, citing experience in the Reaper occupation, but the entire crew had agreed with Garrus that she ought to stay behind.

* * *

"_I can shoot a gun. I can help you!" she'd cried._

"_Shooting living, breathing people with free will and families is different from shooting Reaper forces," Garrus had told her. _

"_You think I don't know that? In the war, sometimes I had to—"she'd broken off, eyes haunted._

_Indoctrinated friends, or the wounded. Garrus nodded. "Then you know. You're not a soldier, Hope."_

"_I'm a damn good soldier!" she'd argued._

"_A soldier doesn't argue with her CO," James had put in. "We need you here, that's where you stay, chica. Without EDI, Sam'll need your help with the com."_

_Her eyes had been too bright, her jaw tight. "Don't play hero," she said finally. "Commander Shepard'll be pissed if she comes back and you guys have gotten yourselves killed."_

"_Ah, don't you know, chica? Playing hero is all we _ever_ do. Lola _taught_ us that."_

"_Well, _I'll_ be pissed." She'd looked at them both hard one more time, then stalked off._

"_That kid doesn't have a friend in the galaxy, Garrus," James had said quietly. "Good thing to do, taking her on. Shepard would like it. But it might've been stupid. If we don't make it back—"_

"_I know," Garrus had snapped. "But what was I supposed to do? I couldn't leave her alone, and we can't take her with us." He'd sighed. "Let's just stop the damn war and make it back, okay?"_

* * *

Kaidan shook his hand, then James'.

"We called all the other fleets," Garrus said. "The asari are sending in a squad of commandos, and Primarch Victus is sending a platoon, but they say they can't spare more than that. The asari say they need to focus their efforts on reactivating the mass relay, and the Hierarchy's fleet—"he hesitated. "They don't have the strength or supplies to launch a major assault right now."

"I understand. What about the quarians?"

"Gerrel's promised air support above the planet and around Luna," Garrus reported. "I was surprised—he's not on best terms with anyone right now. Guess he just wanted a fight. That'll help a lot with the Terminus ships, but it won't do much on the ground. Quarian ground forces aren't much good, anyway, especially against the krogan. One suit breach and it's over."

"So aside from a single squad of commandos and one turian platoon, we're basically on our own, at least down here," Kaidan summed up. "Great."

"What's the situation?" Garrus asked.

"Taylor's up in space with Rear Admiral Joseph Knox, Captain Lara Riven and what's left of the Alliance fleet. But the brunt of the ground assault will fall right here, at the center of government."

"Admiral Hackett's here?"

Kaidan nodded wearily. "Along with General Elaine Phillips and Captain Masao Sasaki. Most of the Alliance leadership was wiped out in the Reapers' first attack on Vancouver, killed or indoctrinated during the war, or killed in the final battle. Hackett, Knox, Riven, Phillips, and Sasaki are all that's left of the Alliance brass."

"And you, Major," Vega said.

Kaidan made a face. "Yeah. And me."

"_That's_ a frightening thought," Garrus joked. "What else have we got?"

"Here at base? A couple dozen Alliance soldiers. Most of our troops are on the ships in orbit, or stationed around the planet at various refugee camps. I won't lie, Garrus. We're in bad shape."

"Not so bad," said a new voice. A figure lit up blue, biotically vaulting over the barricade. "You've got me. Garrus, what's up? Looks like a hell of a fight coming up. Should be fun." Jack walked up, radiating confidence and punched him in the arm.

"Jack. Good to see you," Garrus said, and it was. Jack was solid, reliable, and an incredible soldier. He'd missed her this last year.

"Yeah, the hugs and kisses can wait," she said. "There's a fucking flotilla of shuttles inbound, ETA pretty fucking quick. Broadcasting a friendly signal, but it could be a trap. We have to be ready." She pointed up at the sky, and Garrus saw about thirty shuttles black against the morning sky, flying in. Maybe as many as three hundred troops.

"Crap," he said.

"Into the base," Kaidan shouted to Vega and two soldiers. "Lieutenant, get on the turret!"

"I'm on it!" Jack yelled.

"Garrus—"

But Garrus was already climbing the stairs to the tower, sniper rifle in hand.

The shuttles started landing. Garrus trained his sniper rifle on the door of the first, ready to fire should they prove hostile. But when the first person came out, Urdnot Wrex's head was in his crosshairs.

"Jack, stand down!" he cried. His voice carried over the field. "Friendlies."

He ran down the stairs again and came forward. "Wrex! You gave us a scare, there."

"No time," Wrex growled, as Grunt and over two-hundred and fifty other krogan began coming out of shuttles behind him. "Those traitors are on the move here. Wasn't sure if we'd get in ahead of them. But no way I'm letting this go down. We're stopping this."

"Good to have you aboard, Wrex. Grunt."

"Fan out!" Wrex yelled. "Secure the base. Those bastards'll be here any minute. Let's show them what true krogan can do! Should be a lot of mercs, _Archangel_. You ready for another run?"

Garrus was tired and hungry already. He was worried about Hope and Joker back on the _Normandy_, and he missed Beth so badly it hurt, especially now. But he nodded, as new shuttles appeared on the horizon, these ones already firing. "Let's do this."

* * *

The fighting was getting worse by the day. It'd been going on for three weeks now, around Luna and over Earth, and in Vancouver. The remnants of the batarians had thrown in with the Terminus fleets and the rebel krogan after the first five days. The really terrible part, of course, was that if they hadn't started fighting three weeks ago, there was so much less to fight about now. The first crops were being harvested from the restored greenhouses. Non-greenhouse crops in Earth's southern hemisphere were beginning to grow, and in a few more weeks, they could begin to plant in the north. It was looking like it might be a good year. All the burning the Reapers had done had actually renewed the soil. The levo famine was lifting, and with their decreased population, humans would have no reason not to share the bounty of their homeworld with their allies trapped in the system. But now they were already at war.

The dissident forces were outmatched. The ships were beginning to retreat from the space battle, but they were only hitting Vancouver harder, and so many friends were fighting down there.

Tali was most worried about Garrus. Although they still weren't AI, the geth were doing their jobs. They'd retrofitted two warships into liveships and were working on a third. She'd been able to convince Shala to support her in giving one over to the turians completely, so now they were restoring their own supplies with the geth, and the quarian stores from the other two liveships were unaffected. It would be weeks more before anyone really had enough, but no one was going to starve anymore. But after the first week, no one had been able to get through to Vancouver, so Garrus and the turian platoon there only had the supplies they had had to begin with, and Tali knew there couldn't have been much.

Tali reactivated more geth. The process had become instinctive by now, but now she was also adding new programming. New directives. A display to her right showed the growing power of the network, the geth's growing collective intelligence, but she still didn't know what it ought to look like. What it needed to look like. But the smarter they were, the better.

Keelah, they needed Shepard back. It had been six weeks since the end of the Reaper war, but Tali didn't know how much longer they could hold out without her to hold them together. And she missed her friend.

* * *

Out in the field behind the barricades, Jack and the asari hurled barrels of explosives across no-man's land and into the enemy lines. They tore enemy foot-soldiers limb from limb with their biotics. Vega was on turret duty now, blasting enemy shuttles out of the sky before they could rain down more fire on the base.

There was roaring on the west side, which meant Grunt had succeeded in leaving the base and penetrating to the buildings out by the lake, flanking the enemy, and there was a horrible bloody battle going on out there.

Meanwhile, in the base, Kaidan was trying to care for the sick and wounded and starving. There were a lot of them. No supply ship had been able to get in for four weeks, and there weren't much more than crumbs for the turian troops. Most of them had been too weak to fight for the past week, and those that were still on their feet were mostly living off stims. Garrus hadn't eaten in three days. He thought he might be scheduled for an energy bar today, actually. Something to look forward to.

It was a siege, plain and simple. Sieges never ended well. Garrus remembered his last one all too vividly. The dissidents had them pinned down in here. Losing their little war, but they were winning the battle here, and if they took out Alliance command, well—that might be it for the system.

Garrus scoped a small squad trying to charge the south corner. They were a little blurry, but he knew how to compensate for it. He checked his shot, then squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times. A batarian in blue and two salarians went down. There was a shout, cursing. Music to his ears. Assault gun fire rang out across the base, but the mercs' friends were much too far away to even have a prayer of hitting him.

His radio buzzed. "Vakarian! Come in!"

Hackett. "What?"

"They've used the distraction at the west to launch an assault on the north. They've breached the north barricade! Hurry!"

Garrus pressed a button on the radio. "Jack, stop playing with the kids, there's a breach on the north barricade. Wrex, you hear me? To the north!"

He heard a furious roar behind him. "Urdnot! I'll show you bastards who's boss!"

Garrus ran down the stairs from the tower, switching to his assault gun. Jack came up on his flank with Yvaine M'novi, both blazing blue. Corporal Drae Vidius and Private Corinne Xanthus, stationed on the east, staggered up, pale, shaking, but on their feet. "With me," Garrus cried.

"Yes, sir!"

Vorcha and varren were pouring through a smoking gap in the northern barricade. On either side were krogan in full battle armor locked in combat, and through the early morning winter fog, Garrus could hear the metallic sound of YMIR mechs. Alliance soldiers hid out in the doorway of the base, behind crates.

"Jack—on the barricade," Garrus called.

"Yep! M'novi, help me out!" Jack extended her hand toward one of the krogan shuttles in no-man's land. Sweaty, every muscle tensed, she seized it with her biotics, Yvaine beside her, and the shuttle began to rise.

Garrus aimed at the vorcha, trying to take them out before they could get in close quarters to take out the Alliance men, running and dodging bullets and firing. He pressed a combo on his omnitool and an Eclipse mech went up in a shower of sparks.

Garrus tripped over a fallen krogan corpse —it was impossible to tell if he'd been friend or foe. He fell to the ground hard. A human in Blue Suns armor closed with him, a big, ugly man with cracked yellow teeth in a wide sneering grin. "Archangel!" he grit out. "Never thought I'd have the pleasure." Omniblade extended, he brought his arm down toward the ground.

Garrus kicked up and connected with the merc's torso. He felt the cheap armor dent in, saw the merc's face contort in surprise and pain. He brought his gun up and shot the man square in the face, rolling up to his feet in the same movement. "Nice to meet you," he muttered.

The shuttle crashed down into the breach in the barricade. "Vidius, on the northeast tower!" Garrus ordered. "Keep 'em from coming over the wall again! Jack, M'Novi, get the hell out of here and get some calories in you."

"Fuck that!" Jack said, shooting a krogan in the face with her shotgun. "I'm not leaving until these assholes are toast!" Her voice shook and her arms trembled, though.

"I wasn't asking, Jack! We can't lose you! _Fall back!_"

Jack nodded curtly, and firing all the way, retreated back through the Alliance guards with Yvaine. Garrus slammed another clip into his assault gun, and fired a spray at three charging vorcha as he headed for the northwest tower. To his right, he saw a krogan backhand Corinne into a wall and shoot her in the throat. Wrex broke a batarian's neck and rounded on him, red eyes alight with battle fire, roaring.

Garrus took the stairs four at a time, already switching back to his sniper rifle, grabbing more heat sinks from the reserves in the boxes along the wall. Below, the battle was slowing. Wrex's krogan and the Alliance soldiers were wiping out the ones that had come through the barricade before Jack and Yvaine had restored it. But there were about a dozen still trying to get over the wall, and they had that YMIR mech with them. Garrus aimed at its central processor, programming his rifle to fire an incendiary round that would burn through the thing's heavy armor. He fired, and heard the glass and plastic shatter.

"Archangel in the tower!" someone cried.

"Damn right," Garrus growled, lining up another shot. The mech's shields down, this one made it actually stagger back on one of its stumpy legs. Vidius, from the other tower, shot down a batarian and an Eclipse asari. Garrus fired one last shot at the YMIR mech, and it exploded in a shower of sparks, catching the nearby Blue Suns woman's hair on fire. She screamed and fell to the dirt, beating at her head.

"Fall back!" a krogan roared. "Fall back to the main group!"

Garrus shot a single vorcha still down in the bounds of the base, and lowered his rifle.

When he came down, though, the Alliance soldiers were kneeling around a body. "What's the damage?" Garrus asked.

A young private looked up at him. "Sir—we've lost Admiral Hackett."

* * *

More than 2500 kilometers south, and slightly east of the Battle of Vancouver, in a small clinic in Hayden, Arizona, Beth Shepard opened her eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know, it's terribly cruel of me to cut off on a cliffhanger like that. On the positive side, the next chapter is already finished and in revision, and I'll post soon. I've found I'm kind of obsessed with this story and finishing it right now. **

**Let me know what you think!**

**LMS**


	55. New World: Return

**Disclaimer: Inspired by the Mass Effect trilogy. All rights resigned.**

**Section Warnings: Some violence, language. Discussion of character death.**

**Characters/Pairings: Beth Shepard, Miranda, Chakwas, unnamed OC techs, Garrus Vakarian, OMC Captain Sasaki, OFC General Elaine Phillips, Steve Cortez, James Vega, Jack, Kaidan, Wrex, Grunt, Tali, unnamed geth, Liara. Ensemble, but especially important relationships are as follows: Beth/Chakwas friendship/family, Beth/Miranda friendship. Jack/Kaidan/Garrus/James/Cortez/Wrex/Grunt friendship, BethxGarrus. Beth/Jack friendship, Beth/Wrex friendship. Tali/Beth/Garrus friendship, and Tali/Beth/Liara friendship.**

* * *

New World: Return

The room was small and clean. There was a window to the right, and outside, Earth's sun was shining. The whole place had that antiseptic, hospital smell, but Miranda and Chakwas had done what they could to make the place welcoming, it looked like. There was an old-fashioned quilt on the bed, all the equipment was put away, and the bedside table had some of those bright red desert flowers in a vase. The hospital gown she'd woken up in was draped over the chair, and Beth stood in front of the mirror next to the bathroom, clad in only the Alliance blue sling that supported her right arm, still swathed in bandages.

Scars like canyons cut through her face in six different places, running into and across and through one another. They didn't glow this time, but they were big and red and ugly. Scars like them were all over her torso arms, legs, everywhere she'd had a cybernetic implant explode open an old injury. Her entire left side from shoulder to hip was pitted brown and white with burns. And her hair—her hair was _gone_. Once hip-length, now it barely cleared her chin in wispy, rebellious tendrils. It was cute, the way they'd cut it after it'd all been singed away. But oh, God, it wasn't _her_!

Beth swallowed, squeezed her eyes shut and bit her tongue, hard. She reached out her left arm, and Miranda came up with a blue robe. It was soft against her ruined skin, warm. She let Miranda maneuver her right arm slowly and gently through the sleeve and hang it again in its sling, wincing only slightly at the stabs of pain. She tied the belt herself.

"Well," she managed at last. "I'm not dead."

"The scarring will fade, Beth," Miranda promised. "It's already much better than it was when you arrived. There's medicines, ointments you can apply, and we're not quite done with your surgeries, either."

"And don't forget the power of positive thinking," Doc Chakwas added. "In a few months, it might be like it never happened."

"No," Beth said. "No. The scars'll stay, whether or not you can fix the skin."

Both women fell silent.

Shepard reached her hand up to feel the ends of her hair, well aware how silly, how ridiculous it was to be so damn bothered about her appearance. "It's stupid," she said aloud. "I just—God." She bit her tongue again as he eyes stung and a lump rose in her throat, and laughed wetly. "I—I look like a scarecrow from a horror movie."

She felt warm arms go around her, and she let the doc hug her for a moment, let herself just be Beth, just for a moment. Then she opened her eyes, and squeezed Chakwas' arm, and the doctor let go.

"Where is everybody?" Shepard asked. "I mean, I hate the speeches and the medals, but I feel like I'm entitled to just a little hail-the-conquering-hero, here." A horrible thought washed over her, and she looked frantically at Miranda. "I did save them, right? It is over? We're not—"

Miranda rushed to reassure her. "You did! The war with the Reapers is over, but the blast from the Crucible did more than destroy the Reapers. Aside from the damage to your cybernetics, all the geth were destroyed, along with EDI."

Shepard breathed sharply in. She wrapped her arm around herself and squeezed hard, feeling the weight of another genocide settle on her shoulders, but Miranda wasn't done.

"The blast went through the Charon relay, we think to the rest of the galaxy, but it damaged the relay," Miranda continued. "All the fleets that survived the battle have been trapped in the system for two months, cut off from the rest of the galaxy."

No communications, no trade, no travel. Shepard nodded and stood up straight. "Two months. At least it hasn't been two years this time," she murmured. She waved Miranda on. "What's the damage?"

"Command—Beth," Chakwas said. "Maybe you should rest."

That meant it was bad. Panic shot through Beth's system, and she started pacing. "I've been resting for two months, doctor. Tell me what's going on," she said. "The fleets haven't been trapped in the system for two months over Earth after an _invasion_, _November and December_, without repercussions. How bad is it? God! Garrus!" Beth cried, suddenly thinking of the dextros in a levo system. "The turians, quarians!"

"Commander, calm down!" Chakwas urged. "They're fine. They're all fine."

But Miranda pursed her lips. "At least, last we heard," she admitted.

Beth rounded on her. "_Tell_ me," she growled.

"War broke out five weeks ago," Miranda said quietly. "The krogan army splintered. Half of them broke off and banded together with the batarians and the Terminus Fleets, and began attacking the Alliance for control of Earth and its resources. They were outmatched; the fighting in space was over about a week ago, but they've regrouped around Vancouver, the center of power."

"Last we heard, Garrus was there," Chakwas told her, watching with worried eyes. "Trying to help the Alliance officials hold it. Along with Jack, Kaidan, James, Wrex, Grunt, Cortez, and Admiral Hackett."

"We haven't heard from them in forty-eight hours."

"Shit."

There was a rack in an alcove in the corner. A closet. There were a few t-shirts and sweatpants already hanging on it, waiting for her. Shepard started toward them.

"Shepard, you can't!" Chakwas cried, moving to intercept. "You're still injured. You're too weak!"

"The hell with that!" Shepard snarled. "You can help me or not, but if you try to stop me I guarantee you I'll make you work for it and screw up _all _the stuff you've been working on." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Miranda near the cabinets. "Miranda, _put that syringe the Fuck. Down_. You touch me, I _swear_ I'll hit you, lifesaving thing be damned. I'm _going_."

"I understand you're upset," Miranda tried, but Shepard cut her off.

"That's my government up there under attack, my squad, my friends. That's _Garrus_, and you haven't heard from him in forty-eight hours. There is _nothing_ you can say that can convince me to stay."

Chakwas was taking down a tank, t-shirt, and sweats with shaking hands. "Commander, try to calm down," she said. "You'll injure yourself."

"I'll do more than that," Shepard growled, already throwing off her robe. She leaned on Chakwas as she stepped into the sweatpants, pulled on the tank. She didn't bother trying to be gentle this time, and shooting pain protested her haste. She ignored it. Chakwas helped her on with the t-shirt as Shepard stepped into some shoes on the floor, reaching down to Velcro them shut with her left hand. "Where's my gun?" she asked.

Neither woman answered. Beth's eyes swept the room, and she made her way to the bedside table. Like the cabinet in her room on the Cerberus station. She opened the drawer and found it there, her poor, battered Paladin V. But it had killed the Reapers for her, kept her from becoming Shepard soup for the Keepers to mop up when she was stranded on the Citadel, and it'd do the job. There were only two heat sinks in her, but it'd be enough. It'd have to be.

"You always did keep the weapons close," Shepard told Miranda. "Where's the shuttle? You have to have one."

"We do," Miranda said. "But I'm coming with you. I'm not about to let you get yourself killed after all the effort I've put in to keep you alive. Twice."

"How do I know you won't knock me out and drag me back here the first time I turn my back?" Beth demanded.

Miranda was angry. "You don't," she said crisply. "I'd be doing you a favor if I did. You'll just have to trust me."

"Not a snowflake's chance in hell," Shepard said. "Come on."

Miranda led the way out of her room, through the small, empty hospital. A couple techs saw them coming. "Commander Shepard! You're awake?"

"Move along! Nothing to see here," Miranda snapped. The techs bent their heads back over their consoles, whispering.

"All terrified of you, I guess?" Shepard asked, slightly amused even in the middle of the crisis.

"All," Miranda confirmed. "It's fun, watching them run around." She opened the door to the hospital, and turned right, leading the way up a flight of stairs, toward the roof.

Shepard's chest hurt, and she panted.

"Tired, Shepard?" Miranda called. "That would be your lungs. One of them collapsed in your little adventure on the Citadel. I haven't been able to restore it to full functionality yet. I don't know if I'll be able to."

"Just get me to the damn shuttle," Shepard grit out, staggering behind her.

"This is absurd," Miranda said. "You're going to kill yourself."

"Before I see them die, yes!"

"They might be dead alr—"

"Not another word, Lawson!"

A laugh. "_God_, I missed you, Shepard. The galaxy's missed you."

Shepard made it to the top of the stairs, to find the shuttle on the roof already initializing and the door already open. She jumped in, and the butt of a pistol swung toward her head. She was ready for it, though, and caught Miranda's hand. But though she'd have easily been able to stop Miranda before, now she found the other woman much stronger than herself. She staggered back with the force of the follow-through, and gasped.

Miranda didn't want to hurt her, though, and didn't press her advantage, so when Shepard recovered and swept her leg around, she was unprepared. She toppled to the floor of the shuttle, and Beth brought her own pistol around into Miranda's temple, hard.

Miranda crumpled, and Shepard kicked away her gun, stooped, and picked up the older woman. She groaned beneath the weight, and her scars pulled at her in protest. As gently as she could, she set Miranda down, outside the shuttle. Then she swung around into the cockpit, and pressed the button to shut the door.

"I did warn you," she said quietly. "Sorry, Miranda. I'll make it up to you later. I missed you, too."

* * *

They picked up enemy transmissions that something was weird about fifteen minutes before they saw it. The enemy all started yelling at one another, demanding who was expecting another shuttle.

"Got a bogey," Captain Sasaki called, over the radio. "Shuttle inbound from the south. Planetary origin. Not a hostile. Could be friendlies."

"I'm picking it up on the ladar," Cortez seconded. "Coming _fast_."

"Lieutenant Vega, watch the sky," Phillips ordered. "Be ready to shoot it down."

Garrus stood with Jack, looking south as the shuttle came into view, moving like a comet toward the base. It wasn't broadcasting a signal or anything.

"I don't recognize the colors," Jack muttered. "Who the hell is this guy?"

"It's not firing," came Vega's voice over the radio. "Not at them or at us."

All fire had ceased on both sides of the battle as dissidents and defenders alike watched the shuttle streaking in, weaving, dipping, shaking.

"That's not an evasive pattern," Cortez observed. "The operator has no idea how to fly the vehicle. Either that or he's drunk. Or injured."

"It's coming in too fast," Jack said. "They're gonna crash."

The shuttle hit the dirt, plowing up no-man's land, in between both sides of the battle. Garrus felt it hit in his feet. Dead silence fell. "Jack," he said, then, "Open the barricade."

She must've had the same feeling he did, because she didn't say a word. Only nodded at Kaidan and two asari. The south barricade lit up blue, and three crates shifted aside, giving the base an unobstructed view of no-man's land and the crashed shuttle, smoking in the churned up snowy ground.

"It's an ambulance," Kaidan said, surprised. He looked at Garrus then. "No way," he breathed.

"Shit, you don't think—"

Garrus couldn't speak. He just stared at the hospital insignia on the ambulance, screaming out as loud as that N7 logo on lavender armor, almost two years across a bridge on Omega.

The shuttle opened with a screech that echoed across the field, and the sole occupant staggered out into the winter sun. Her shoes crunched in the snow.

Her right arm was in a sling, Alliance blue. She wasn't in any sort of armor, just a plain white t-shirt and sweatpants, and she shivered in the cold. Angry red scars cut across her face and visible left arm, which was also covered in burn scars that hadn't yet finished healing. But even scarred in sweatpants, she was unmistakable. The way the sun shone on her bright yellow hair. The way she stood tall, shoulders back, unshielded, wounded, still ready to take on both armies, and _win_. The way she held the beat-up Paladin V loosely, confidently, in her left hand. Not even her dominant hand, but Garrus just bet she could outshoot ninety-eight percent of the galaxy with it, anyway.

She walked a couple steps away from the shuttle, so she was clearly visible to both sides of the field. She raised her arm and fired three shots into the air, even though it was already so silent you could hear a pin drop.

She didn't shout, but her voice rang out across the field as she spoke, regardless. "Drop your weapons!" she ordered. "This war is over."

Everyone looked at her, standing there reminding them just what they'd done, together, what they had sacrificed and what they'd earned, and what they were throwing away. Across the field, Garrus distinctly saw a krogan look up and away, where a Reaper corpse still overshadowed the city.

Garrus swung down his rifle and put down his assault gun. Jack threw down her shotgun, shaking her head slightly. The air clattered with the sound of falling pistols, rifles, shotguns, knives.

Then like a bell, a horn, an earthquake, the cheer resounded from _both_ sides of the field. "Shepard! Shepard! Shepard!"

* * *

"Shepard! What, you couldn't have shown up five weeks ago?" Jack demanded. "Just walk onto the field and say, 'Hey, stop fighting!' And it's over, just like that. Shit. Fuck you, Shepard. Fuck you." She shook her head, then hugged Beth so tightly her bones, still rattled from the crash, protested, but she let go before Beth could complain. "Don't scare us like that," Jack ordered. "It's been crap without you."

"Love you, too, Jack," Beth laughed.

"Screwed up a hell of a fight, though." Jack said.

"Just as well," growled Wrex, trudging up. "These pyjaks had forgotten what the war cost us, what we came to fight for. We don't need to kill each other anymore."

"It was a stupid fight," Grunt agreed. "There's no honor in a fight like this one. Shooting each other over scraps of food and worthless pieces of someone else's world, like varren. Or insects." He grumbled, still simmering. "Hackett's dead. A lot of people are dead."

Beth took this in stride. She breathed in. "I'm glad you're not," she said.

"Take more than this to kill me," Grunt responded.

"Glad you didn't manage to kill yourself against the Reapers," Wrex said. "Good to have you back. I have to go talk to those bastards outside. We need to talk reparation. They need to _pay_ for what they've done."

Shepard stepped in front of Wrex slightly. "Go easy on them, Wrex," she said. "We've had enough fighting. Enough bloodshed."

Wrex grunted, but bowed his head slightly. He'd consider it. Beth let him go.

There were Kaidan, James, and Cortez, standing by the door to the base, but then Shepard saw Garrus, on the other side, and stopped.

* * *

She caught sight of him, standing by the door to the base, and stood still a moment. Then, without a word, she moved past the others and came to him, the strangest look on her face. Chin out, and now her gun was tucked into the back of her sweatpants, her free left hand was fluttering by her side uncertainly.

Garrus had only seen the look on her face once before, the time she'd returned from Omega after really getting to know her first turian woman, when she'd realized that although _she_ had options closer to home, _he_ didn't, on the _Normandy_, and been stupid enough to wonder whether if he did, he'd still choose her. But he couldn't begin to guess why she looked that way now.

"Hi," she said quietly. "Did you miss me?"

Garrus could hardly breathe, it was so good to see Beth standing there, talking to him again. But he played it cool. "I've kept busy."

She smiled. "Looks like it. 'Archangel: the Reprise.' Sorry to interrupt the opera."

"Don't worry about it. Never liked operas. They all have crap endings. And anyway, your entrance was more than worth it."

"Yeah, well. Turns out you need two arms to fly a shuttle," she joked, gesturing at her still-healing right arm. "Who knew?"

"Shepard, I'm pretty sure that even if you could use both arms, you wouldn't have flown in much better," Garrus told her.

She didn't flare up and snap back, like she normally would. Instead, she just laughed a little self-consciously. "Been a while," she said. Her fluttering left hand finally came up to touch her hair, her face. "Seems I've got some scars to match yours now. Well, reopened them, anyway. The burns are new." She bit her lip, tried to smile.

Was _that_ it? Garrus almost laughed in her face. He'd never seen her more beautiful than the second she'd stepped out of that shuttle, though facing down the Reaper on Rannoch came pretty damn close. But instead of laughing at her, Garrus simply seized Beth by the shoulders and kissed her square on the mouth in front of the spirits and everybody.

She gave a little cry of pain as he jolted her arm, and remorse flooded him immediately. He let go, and would have pulled back, but Beth brought her left hand to the back of his head and deepened the kiss. For the first time in two months, the ground felt firm beneath his feet, and while his limbs were weak and his vision was blurred from hunger he'd ominously stopped feeling sometime yesterday, his mind was clear, still. Everything would be fine now. Beth was back. She was real, solid, _alive_ in his arms. They were together, and he was home, wherever in the galaxy he happened to be and whatever the hell was going on. He was home.

Behind them, Vega whistled, and Jack called, "Shit, really? Get a damn room!"

Beth broke away, grinning. "I love you," she whispered. "Don't scare me like that. Diving into some stupid war on your own like that—"

"_Me_? You're the one that plowed through Reapers and who the hell knows what else to get to the Crucible," Garrus protested. "Almost needed a second Lazarus Project to keep you alive. Where's Miranda? I don't think she would've just let you go—not like _this_."

Beth winced guiltily. "About that? I kind of escaped," she admitted. "Woke up and they told me about the war and that you'd gone radio silent up here. I basically forced Miranda to show me to the shuttle, and then when she tried to bring me back to my room anyway, I, uh—I knocked her out." She shivered. "Didn't even take time to pack for the weather. It's freaking freezing."

Garrus rolled his eyes. "Your city, Shepard. Not mine."

* * *

Kaidan walked up with a blanket from inside the base, and Shepard accepted it gratefully.

Shepard followed Kaidan into the base. In the entrance, there were fifty corpses laid out in body bags. Most were krogan, but there were several turians, an asari, and twelve Alliance men. One was Hackett. Shepard looked down at the tag. Hackett.

At the Hardins, her last foster family, in the small, scrubby, dirty, mostly empty back yard, there'd been a gnarled old tree. Her bedroom window had looked out on the thing. Dark brown and knotty, hopelessly twisted out of shape, with just a few leaves left on it that never fell, while the rest never grew. But it stood, and stood, like it'd stood forever, until a storm wiped it out the spring she was seventeen. It'd been there forever, she'd gotten so used to seeing it there, and then one day it was gone.

Hackett had been through so much, survived so much. She'd got to thinking he was immortal, but here he was, felled by a stray bullet in a little skirmish in what ought to have been peacetime. She shook her head. Garrus put an arm around her, and she leaned into him, grateful beyond measure that she'd found him here, safe.

"He was a good man," Garrus said.

"I don't know about that," Beth answered. "But he was a damn good admiral. So. Who's in charge here?" she asked. "If Hackett's dead—"

"That'd be me," said a new voice. A tall, grim faced woman in uniform strode up, iron gray hair tightly bound back in a regulation bun. "General Elaine Phillips, of the Fifth. I'm the highest ranking Alliance officer left on the planet."

Shepard stepped away from Garrus and snapped to attention. "Ma'am." She said. "I'd salute, but…" she gestured to her arm, and gave a half-shrug

"_You_ don't salute anyone, Commander. _Ever_." General Phillips snapped to attention herself and saluted. "The entirety of civilization owes you their lives. Commander Shepard, it's an honor. Your friends saved our asses in the siege here."

Shepard smiled at her crew. "They're good at that," she said. "Are there any other battles? Any holdouts? I understand there had been fighting going on in other places."

"Not for several days now," Phillips told her. "The quarian heavy fleet and our ships in orbit forced the dissidents to focus their efforts here. If they could wipe out Alliance command, they assumed we would fall into chaos. But they didn't wipe us out. Not quite."

It was a good thing, Beth thought. The Alliance needed its leadership now, to keep diplomatic relations with the aliens in the system, to keep control over the civilian population, to organize rebuilding Earth and rehousing her refugees. "General Phillips, until we get national and local governments running again, you just became the face of the human race," Shepard informed her.

"I'm aware," she said drily. "Retirement is suddenly looking very attractive."

The radio on Phillips' hip buzzed. "General!" a voice sounded. "We've got more shuttles inbound. Broadcasting friendly signals. Quarian."

"The quarians?" Garrus asked. "What are they doing here?"

"Let's go find out, shall we?" Phillips said.

Beth, Garrus, and Kaidan followed Phillips out of the base again, and over the city, Beth saw them. Half a dozen quarian shuttles coming in from orbit. They landed outside the base, and the doors opened.

A quarian female in a purple enviro-suit stepped out. She was carrying a big, mean looking shotgun, and she was flanked on her right and left by active geth platforms similarly armed.

Tali'Zorah vas _Normandy_ looked to either side, at the quiet field, saw Wrex shouting at the former hostiles, the defenders starting to clean up the mess in the base. "Oh, did I miss the party?" she asked. "What a sh—"she caught sight of Beth. "Shepard!"

Tali loped inside the barricade and straight up to Shepard, and hugged her tightly. "What are you doing here? What are you _wearing_? Aren't you freezing? Never mind—it's so good to see you."

"Tali," Shepard said, hugging the young quarian woman back. "What's all this?"

"I've been reactivating the geth," Tali explained. "They aren't what they were, not yet, but they're still very useful. Ever since the war broke out, I've been programming units for combat, and once I had enough, I came bringing supplies for Garrus and the turian platoon stationed here."

"You've got food?" Garrus put in. "Tali, have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Not nearly often enough," Tali quipped. "But there's more. We guessed they shot out communications, so we brought a link out to Pluto. There's news."

Practically bouncing, she pressed a sequence in on her omnitool, and Liara's face came up on holo. "Tali?" she said. Tali moved her arm around, and Liara gasped. "Shepard! You're awake! I'm so glad."

"Likewise," Shepard said. "What's the news, Liara?"

"We've managed to repair and reactivate the mass relay," Liara reported. "It's working!"

"It's working?" Phillips demanded. "We're up again?" She shook her head. "Sorry—General Elaine Phillips, Alliance Marines—"

"I know who you are," the Shadow Broker said. "Pleasure, General. Dr. Liara T'Soni. Yes, the Charon mass relay is repaired. We're receiving transmissions from asari and salarian space as we speak."

"They're okay?" Shepard broke in. "All the Reapers are gone?"

Liara's voice over Tali's omnitool was jubilant. "Yes, all of them. The blast from the Crucible went through the mass relays, as we hypothesized, destroying all the Reapers, but damaging every single relay in the system. But the asari and salarians have already begun repairing other relays, and they've been beaming transmissions our way for weeks, wondering what the hell happened here."

"I'll bet," Beth laughed. "Beam it back. We're okay. The Reapers are destroyed. It's over."

"Aye-aye, Commander!"

* * *

**A/N: There was some concern about Hackett's death, so let me say now, no, it won't be a thing. General Phillips will take over the Alliance and the organization of rebuilding Earth in the interim, until countries get back on their feet and more officers are promoted, and the Alliance becomes what it was formerly, Earth's united military forces, its representative on the galactic scene, but not necessarily the leaders of the entire planet, and not necessarily headed up by a single person. **

**Will Shepard be promoted? Will she receive the formal responsibility she only had informally because of the emergency state of the galaxy before? **

**I'm not actually writing formal chapters addressing these questions in **_**Disaster Zone.**_** The answers to them can be found in the Appendices I'll be tacking on at the end, which will detail all the things you wanted to know (and probably some you didn't, but might find interesting, anyway) about how Shepard and the Reaper War changed the ME universe, what happened to her and to all your favorite characters, how the galaxy put itself back together and what the shape of the next major war might be and why, etc. Even some stuff about the changing media portrayals of Commander Shepard over the years and a small history of the place she eventually settles. This story is more concerned with Shepard's personal life and how she reacts to war and love and change. **

**The next chapter will actually skip ahead a year and five months from this one, to the end of Shepard's final tour. A brief synopsis you can read more about in the appendices later: The fleets stayed five more months in the Sol system, stocking up before embarking on what would be a year-long journey to return to their home systems, repairing relays all the way. The fleets then split in half, roughly. Garrus Vakarian was charged with leading the Council races and the krogan back home, all more or less located in the bottom left of your galaxy map, while Shepard, five months stronger with more surgery and physical therapy, took on the leadership of the quarians, geth, and Terminus fleets back to their home systems, all up in the top right of your galaxy map. Hope Paxton-Lopez went with her in the **_**Normandy**_**. Both Garrus and Beth** **had little adventures on their tours, and a year after their departure from the Sol system, all fleets returned and most of the mass relays repaired, having kept in touch with only emails and holo-calls, they're set to meet up again on Palaven to start their retirement. **

**Until then,**

**Enjoy!**

**LMSharp **


End file.
